Skeletons
by FutureMrsStabler
Summary: The average tour for this unit is two years...each of them has a personal reason for staying this long. The squad is about to find out that Elliot has a secret behind his career choice that has the potential to destroy his entire world.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

HONK HONK! The sound of traffic and cursing met Detective Elliot Stabler's ears when he stepped out of his apartment building.

_Geez_, he thought. _Doesn't anyone get up on the right side of the bed in New York?_ Shaking his head, he stepped off the curb and walked around to the driver's side of his SUV.

He was unlocking the door when a loud, close-sounding horn startled him. He jumped, dropped his keys, and barely missed being gored by a delivery truck. He flattened himself against the side of his vehicle as the truck zoomed past him, the driver shouting obscenities at him through his open window.

"Yeah, same to you!" Elliot yelled.

He quickly jumped in his truck and pulled out into the stream of traffic leaving Queens. He yawned widely. At 6:30 in the morning, all he wanted to be doing was sleeping. But a New York City police officer had about as much of a chance being mugged as he did getting a full night's sleep.

Detective Olivia Benson arrived at the 16th Precinct in Manhattan at 7:30. She went to the coffee pot and picked up a mug. Then she had a thought.

"Hey," she yelled to the officers around her. "Who made the coffee this morning?"

"Munch," came the simultaneous reply. She scoffed and put the mug back. No wonder the pot was full!

Detective John Munch looked offended as he walked up. "I don't see what the big deal is," he said.

To prove his point, he poured himself a cup and gulped it. "Tastes fine to me."

"It would," she retorted, going to her desk. It was a well-known fact around the Special Victims Unit squad room that John Munch made the world's worst coffee. As she took off her coat, she looked around pitifully. "Anybody making a Starbucks run?"

Elliot arrived at 8:30. He sat down at his desk with his mail in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. Olivia looked at his mug.

"Where did you get that?" she asked warily.

He looked at her like she was crazy. "The pot, duh," he answered, setting aside his mail. When he lifted his mug to his mouth, she shot forward and grabbed it.

"You don't wanna drink that," she said, lowering it.

"What?" he asked surprised. "Why?"

"Munch made it."

His eyes widened and he let her have it. She sat it in the middle of their desks, and they both backed away as if it would spontaneously combust at any given moment.

"Oh, will you give me a break?" Munch said, exasperated.

His partner, Odafin Tutuola, snickered. Munch shot him a death glare and he returned it, undaunted.

"Children." Captain Donald Cragen stepped into the room. "Shut up about the damn coffee and get to work." He was hiding a smile.

"Say, Captain," Elliot said. "Have _you_ by any chance tasted Munch's coffee?"

"No way," he said. "I don't have a death wish."

That sent Elliot, Olivia, and Fin into peals of laughter. He turned and went back to his office, grinning.

"You guys suck," Munch declared, starting on a report.

"Hey, did you hear that, Olivia?" Elliot asked proudly as he got up. "We suck!"

She knocked her fist with his, laughing. He dumped the coffee pot and started a fresh brew. She went through her own mail.

"So, Liv," he said. "You got anything to do this weekend?"

She looked at him, amused. Elliot and his weekends. He acted like they were sacred.

They had barely finished one and he was already making plans for the next.

"Gee, I don't know, Elliot," she said sarcastically. It was only Tuesday. "Why?"

"I have a whole attic full of boxes that I need to put into storage. I haven't touched them since…."

_The divorce_, she finished silently for him.

"So if you're not busy and want to spend a day with your favorite partner…"

"We'll see," she said, smiling.

She was already making a mental note to be there. Elliot was her best friend. He had been knocked down with his recent divorce and was still struggling. She hated to see him hurt. She would walk on water for him, and he knew it.

"Hey…" he said slyly. "If it's really hot up there, I'll let you see me with my shirt off!"

She made a face at him, and he laughed.

**So…who's ready for another dose? I told you I'd be back…hey, have I ever lied to you? You should know by now that I will never reveal too much in a single chapter, so stay tuned for the adventure as it unfolds!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

The week passed quickly, to Olivia's surprise. She woke up at 7:30 Saturday morning and showered. She had told Elliot she would be at his house by 9:00 with breakfast. She stopped by a bagel shop in Manhattan that she knew was a favorite of Elliot's, and was en route to Queens by 8:15.

She pulled into his complex and drove around to his townhouse. She spotted his SUV and parked next to it, knowing his neighbor who parked there wasn't home. The door was unlocked, so she knocked and let herself in. She walked into the kitchen and put the bag on the counter.

"Hey," Elliot said, coming in.

"Hey," she answered. "I brought breakfast."

He all but pounced on the bag, digging through it. "Alright!" he said. "Sesame seed." He brought the bagel out and set it on a napkin.

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" he teased, giving her a lopsided grin.

She smirked. "Keep digging."

Giving her a surprised look, he looked in the bag again. His smile widened as he pulled out her second surprise.

"Blueberry cream cheese!" he said happily. "Olivia, you're an angel."

"Just keep it away from me," she warned, digging out her own bagel. She hated anything that tasted like blueberries.

He scoffed. "You should talk," he retorted, pointing to her onion bagel. "Don't breathe on me for at least an hour after you eat that, Liv."

They went to the refrigerator to get apple juice.

She got there first and opened the door. He shoved her playfully. She wasn't expecting it and went flying against the counter. He laughed loudly as he brought the juice out.

She waited until he had poured the glasses and picked up his bagel before shoving him back. He choked. She picked up her bagel and laughed back at him. They kept shoving each other as they walked into the den.

"Wow," she said. The room was cluttered with boxes. Some of them were opened and the contents on the floor.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," he said, sitting down Indian-style on the floor. "These are just from the back of my closet. I haven't even started on the attic yet."

She shook her head and sat down next to him.

"I've been dividing things up into a pile to keep and a pile to trash," he said. He dug through the one he had been working on, so she pulled one close to her.

. "You sure do have a lot of junk," she commented, poking through it.

"Hey," he said defensively. "One man's junk…"

She held up a kitchen timer shaped like a coconut and raised an eyebrow. He guffawed.

"Is another one's bad taste," she finished for him. "Trash."

She tossed it over to the trash pile.

"How do you know that's not some priceless piece of family history, Olivia?" he asked. She looked at him doubtfully, and he gave in under her stare, laughing.

"Ok, so that's not," he said. "But would it kill you to ask?"

She grabbed a piggy bank with a crack down the side that said GO GIANTS on it. "How about this?" she asked sarcastically. "Is this a family heirloom?"

He pretended to ponder it. "Actually…" he droned. He laughed at her glare, and she threw it in the trash pile. Elliot pulled another box to him and inspected the contents briefly before declaring it trash and pushing the entire box over to the pile.

Olivia pushed a box over to join his. "Trash," she said.

He looked at her suspiciously before pulling her box over and inspecting it. "Hey!" he said. He pulled out a battered, forest green baseball cap with a gold monogrammed "E" across the front. "My lucky hat!"

He plunked it on his head, and Olivia almost choked on her apple juice.

. "_How_ old is that hat, Elliot?" she asked.

He stopped to think about it. "I think I got it when I was…14," he said. "I wore it under my football helmet every game my freshman year in high school."

"Did it make you score any touchdowns?" she pressed him, trying to make him see reason.

"Well…no."

She held her hand out for the hat.

"Aw, Liv, no! It's got…_sentimental value_." He put on his most convincing face, hoping to persuade her.

"_This_ is why you have so much junk, Elliot," she said. She snapped her fingers at him. "The hat."

He pouted, handing it to her. She promptly threw it in the trash pile, laughing at his stubborn face. They continued working, a comfortable silence falling.

"Wow."

Elliot looked up to see Olivia with a photo album across her lap. "What?" he asked, scooting over to her.

It was full of pictures of Elliot as a teenager. He looked full of youth and ease. Olivia wasn't surprised to see he was still good-looking as a kid. He was the kind that she and her friends swooned over in high school.

She turned the page and scanned the pictures slowly. There were a few of Elliot with his basic training unit. She suddenly heard his breath catch and he tightened his grip on the book, preventing her from turning the page again.

She looked at him, surprised. His eyes were fixed on the album. She scanned the pages until she found the source.

A picture of Elliot with Kathy was in the lower corner. He was in full Marine uniform, with his arms wrapped around her waist, and was smiling that beautiful smile that made her weak in the knees. He turned away quickly, but she saw the tears in his eyes.

"Elliot," she said, putting the book aside. "Sweetie, it's ok." She covered his hand with her own. "It takes time. You know that." He swiped angrily at his eyes and stood up.

"Let's call it a day," he said abruptly.

A rush of guilt swept Olivia. She hadn't known what the album had in it. "We don't have to," she said. "Come on, we still have the attic left."

He rubbed his eyes. "No, really, Liv," he insisted, reaching a hand down to her. "I'm starting to get cross-eyed."

She stood. "I'm sorry, Elliot," she said.

He looked at her in surprise. "It's not your fault," he said quickly. "It's almost one o'clock. I just feel guilty about taking up your day."

She protested. "You're not. I told you I would help you."

He smiled at her. "You have been. Thank you," he said. "I just really think we should save the rest for another day. This is already going to take a while to get into storage." He had to convince her it wasn't her fault.

"You need me to help you?" He shook his head.

"Nah," he said. "Go home, Liv. You don't need to waste your weekend with your boring partner." She smiled, and relented.

"See you Monday?" she asked, as she opened the door.

"But of course," he answered, grinning. "See you."

She waved and was gone. Elliot sighed and turned around, picking up the photo albums on the floor and putting them back in the boxes

Taking three of the boxes into his arms, he trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. Kicking open the closet door, he deposited them on the floor with a grunt and backed out of the small space. When he tried to shut the door, it wouldn't latch because the boxes blocked the doorway.

He cursed under his breath and flung the door open again. After a brief wrestling match with the stubborn cardboard, he admitted defeat and decided to leave the closet door hanging open.

Backing out, he misjudged the distance and ended up slamming his head on the small shelf above him. Miscellaneous knickknacks came crashing down on him.

"Ow!" he yelled loudly. He glared above him at the sturdy piece of plywood. "Damn you!"

Muttering hotly, he began picking up the things that had fallen. When everything was back in place, he backed out again…carefully.

A small paper fluttered to the ground near the door, and he picked it up.

_Mother of God…_Elliot felt the room rotating at an alarming rate. He quickly dropped the photograph on the ground and shut his eyes, willing himself to erase what he had just seen.

His stomach somersaulted. Standing up on shaky legs, he turned around and frantically started heading for the bathroom. He didn't make it. The dizziness made him fall, and he ended up puking all over the floor beside his bed.

When he finished, he sat up shakily and collapsed against the side of his bed, breathing hard. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror attached to the bedroom door. His skin was pale and he felt himself shaking.

Closing his eyes, he tried his best to remove the image from his brain. But the damage had already been done. _No, God…not now…please not now…_Elliot shook his head roughly, praying that the memories would go away.

All that produced was another bout of puking as his body began reacting. He gave in and dropped face-first to the carpet, letting the tears flow free in the privacy of his room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

Olivia stopped at Starbucks and ordered three large coffees and two iced Frappacinos before going in to work Monday morning.

Elliot wasn't at his desk, but she knew he was there because his jacket was on the back of his chair. She set the two iced coffees down on their desk and put the others down on Munch and Fin's desk.

"Sweet," Fin said, taking one of the cups out. He popped the lid and took a long sip.

His partner removed his cup and got to work opening packets of sugar and cream. When he poured in his third cream, Fin stopped and looked at him. Unaffected, Munch kept going, ripping open two more. Fin kept watching in silence, his lip curled in disgust.

"Man, who's your HMO?" he finally asked.

John looked at him over the rims of his glasses, his hand posed over looked another packet of sugar. "Excuse me?"

"Obviously, whoever your dentist is makes more money than freakin' Donald Trump," Fin said. He gestured to his partner's coffee cup, appalled. "Look at that! It's a wonder you even have any teeth left drinking that shit!"

"Excuse me," Munch said haughtily. "I'll have you know that I have not had a cavity in thirty years." He flashed a Cheshire grin toward his partner, who just glared.

"That's 'cause you've got so many in your head," he mumbled, looking down at his report. "There's no room for any more holes anywhere else."

Olivia chuckled, sipping her drink. The door to Cragen's office opened then, and Elliot came out, followed by the captain. He headed up the stairs without a glance in anyone's direction.

The three of them quieted immediately, sensing trouble. The captain didn't seem upset, though. He had two files in his hands and put one beside Olivia. "

Ok, guys," he said, handing the other to Fin. "We've got a couple from Chelsea claiming their six year-old daughter was attacked."

Olivia grimaced, picking up the file. That was probably what had her partner upset. Cases involving children always riled him.

"She's at the Children's Hospital," Cragen continued. "I want you four to go down there and see what the story is before we take the case."

Munch nodded, standing up. "Meet you there," he said to Olivia.

She nodded as the two of them left, and looked back at the captain. "What's going on?" she asked, directing her eyes toward the staircase.

Cragen shook his head. "Elliot said he isn't feeling well," he said.

At that instant, the topic of conversation came back down the stairs.

"You alright?" she asked in concern.

He looked at the captain quickly, wondering what he had told her. Cragen shook his head slightly, and he relaxed. "Um…yeah," he said. "Yeah, fine. Let's go."

They arrived at the Children's Hospital of Windsor about forty minutes later. Munch and Fin headed for the ER to question the doctors on duty. A nurse directed Olivia toward the girl's room. They spotted two distraught figures sitting in chairs outside of the room and immediately knew they were the parents.

Olivia and Elliot exchanged grim looks as they approached, and held out their badges.

"Mr. and Mrs. Stepford?" Olivia asked gently. They looked up in surprise. "We're from Manhattan Special Victims. I'm Detective Benson, and this is my partner Detective Stabler."

Though upset, the couple handled themselves quite well. "Yes…" the man said, clearing his throat. "The doctor told us you were coming. I'm Jason Stepford, and this is my wife, Janet."

She waited for Elliot to take the lead. When he didn't, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye in irritation. "Can you tell us what happened?" she continued.

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but his wife burst out before he could. "How could this happen?" she cried hysterically. "Why would someone hurt my baby? She's only six years old!"

"Honey…" Jason shot an apologetic look at the detectives when his wife broke down into tears.

"Mrs. Stepford…." Olivia said quietly. "Would you like us to get you something to drink?"

Embarrassed, Janet wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, sniffling. "No...no. I'm alright. Please continue."

The two detectives took seats next to them. Olivia kept waiting for her partner to jump in, but he had his gaze on the ground.

"Where were you when the attack happened?" she asked.

Jason sighed. "At the park," he answered. "Janet works during the day and I stay home with Lisa."

"Was there anyone suspicious hanging around?" she continued. "Maybe a man without any children?"

"No," he said hoarsely. "No one. God…she was out of my sight for a _second_…just a second!" His voice cracked.

Munch and Fin came up to them then. "Thank you," she said, standing. "We'll let you get back to your daughter."

She was vaguely aware of Elliot mirroring her actions and following after her.

"What is wrong with you?" Olivia had held her tongue all the way up until they were driving back to the precinct. "You left me out to dry in there!"

Elliot's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his face expressionless. "Sorry," he mumbled under his breath.

She shook her head and scoffed. "Sorry?" she repeated. "If you aren't going to do your job, at least give me the courtesy of a heads-up."

"Damn it, Olivia!" His sudden angry outburst startled her. His jaw was tight and he looked at her with fire in his eyes. "Why don't you give _me_ the courtesy of getting off my back?"

That struck a nerve. He knew it the instant the words left his mouth. Her mouth tightened and she turned toward the window without another word.

He sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry, Liv," he said. He shook his head. "I didn't get much sleep this weekend…I wasn't focused in there. I didn't mean to bite your head off." He paused, waiting to see if she would look at him. She didn't.

"Come on," he persisted. "Olivia, I really am sorry…please don't be mad at me." He nudged her side with his elbow and saw her glance at him quickly. "Please?"

She glanced at him and saw that he was giving her an exaggerated puppy-dog face. She tried to pretend like she was still angry, but she never could keep a straight face when he did that.

For the first time, she noticed lines around his eyes that weren't usually there. His normally proud posture was sagged against the seat, and he rubbed his forehead tiredly as he switched lanes. She suddenly felt incredibly guilty for jumping on him…he looked like he had been rode hard and put away wet.

"You don't look very well, Elliot," she said. "What happened this weekend?" A thought came into her head, and she looked at him in concern. "Was it Kathy?"

He heard the genuine worry in her voice, and shook his head. "No, no," he answered. "Nothing like that. I just…I just had a lot on my mind."

They fell silent. After a minute, Olivia ventured, "You know you can talk to me…about anything."

More silence. "Yeah," he said finally. "I know, Olivia. Thanks."

Whatever was eating at him didn't stop for the rest of the day. Cragen let them go at six, to their surprise and delight.

"Hey," Fin said, as they went to their lockers. "You guys want to go get a drink?"

Olivia was immediately for the idea, not wanting to go home alone. "I'm in," she said.

"I've been working with you all day…" Munch said to Fin. "I guess a few more hours of mindless boredom won't hurt."

Olivia laughed at the glare Fin threw toward his partner.

"Actually, you guys…." Elliot clicked the padlock shut on his locker. "I think I'll pass,"

Olivia looked at him in concern. "You sure?" she asked.

He smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Go ahead. I'm just going to go home and crash."

"That's cool," Fin said. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow," Elliot echoed, as the two of them went in the opposite direction. Olivia hung back. "Go on, Olivia. Go have fun."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" she asked. "I can tell them to go without me."

He smiled at her worry. "I appreciate that," he said, touching her shoulder lightly. "But really….I'm fine. I'm just going to go home and crash, because I am beat."

"Well, ok," she said finally. "See you later."

She turned around and hurried to catch up with the others. Olivia knew something was up…she had seen Elliot fake a smile too many times to not notice when he was giving her one.

"Hey," she called out, stopping them. "Look….I think I'm just going to go home."

"Why?" Munch asked. "Come on…it's not a school night!"

She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. "I really should go home and do my laundry," she said. "I'll go next time…promise."

"Sure," Fin said, rolling his eyes. He sighed and walked off with his partner.

Olivia turned back and headed for the parking garage. _Should I call him? What should I say? Am I going crazy? _

As she was heading for her car, she heard a sound like someone vomiting. Startled, she walked toward the sound and saw Elliot on his knees behind his truck.

He dropped his head to his chest and breathed shallowly. The nausea had been creeping up all day, and he was glad it hadn't gotten this bad while he was in front of the others. The sound of footsteps startled him. He whipped his head up to see Olivia coming toward him with a worried expression.

_Shit!_ he thought in a panic. Climbing quickly to his feet, he dashed inside the car and started the ignition.

Olivia heard the truck start, and watched as he pulled away quickly. She knew he had seen her.

Elliot zoomed toward the Queens expressway like a mad man. His cell phone rang, but he ignored it. He dashed inside his apartment without even bothering to shut the front door and pounded up the stairs. His heart was threatening to explode from his chest.

He went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Pulling out the muscle relaxers, he opened the bottle with shaking hands and shook a handful into his palm. He went straight to his bedroom and crouched down under the bed, searching madly through the junk he had piled under it.

He finally located the old blanket and pulled out the bottle of Jack Daniels that he had hidden in the folds. Popping the top off, he threw the pills in his mouth and chugged the liquor like a dying man. He finished off half of the bottle and took a deep breath, his hands still shaking.

Putting the bottle aside, Elliot climbed out from under the bed and collapsed on top of the mattress. He covered his eyes with his arm and waited for oblivion to claim him, knowing that it would take him somewhere where he wouldn't see the horrible memories when he dreamed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

**Author's Note: **Sorry to disappoint anyone reading….anyone familiar with my stories should know that I am not a fan of E/O and will not ever write them as anything more than best friends. I prefer to use action scenes and emotions when writing.

Even the inebriation couldn't keep out the horror. Elliot tossed around in a drunken sleep, muttering incoherently and flailing desperately to escape. His hands clenched at his sides as he dreamed.

"_What's your name?" _

_The boy said nothing as he huddled against the wall. When he tried to come closer, the boy yelled angrily, stopping him in his tracks._

"_Son?" He tried again. "What's your name?" _

The words echoed around Elliot's head, bouncing around his thoughts before fading away into a different scene.

"_Can you breathe?" _

_He giggled hysterically, gasping for air. The fingers kept going, ruthlessly digging into his sides. _

"_Can you breathe?" she asked again, her face crinkled from laughter. She let up._

"_Do it again!" he cried gleefully. "Do it again!"_

_Her face lit up with laughter as she tickled him again. His delighted squeals floated in the air._

The sounds of his own screams awakened him. He shot awake and ended up tumbling off of the bed. Gasping for air, Elliot clutched the blanket that had gone with him and sobbed painfully. The gurgling of his stomach jolted him into action. He was up and running toward the bathroom before he even realized it.

He cried as he was vomiting.

Captain Cragen was surprised to find his phone already ringing when he stepped into his office the next morning. It was only 7:30…surely the criminals had to sleep _sometime_. He reached for it hesitantly, praying that it wasn't the commissioner calling to summon him.

"Hello?" he answered, setting his keys and files down. He shrugged his jacket off. His face registered relief when he recognized the voice. "Hey, Elliot."

He listened, his brow furrowing as he listened to the detective. "Yeah…uh-huh." A pained look crossed his face. "Sure….no, it's not a problem….I'm sure, Elliot…I'll come up with something, don't worry about….ok, see you soon. Bye."

He felt a pang in his heart when he hung up the phone, and promised himself to keep a careful eye out for his detective over the next few days.

Elliot breathed a sigh of relief when he hung up….he had been rather reluctant to ask the captain if he could take a half-day. With that off of his mind, he went about getting ready to leave.

Munch and Fin's animated argument could be heard from the elevator. Olivia shook her head in amusement as she neared the squad room.

"Whatever, man!" Fin said. "It's not humanly possible."

Munch was grinning his famous mysterious smile. "Oh, I beg to differ, Tutuola," he said. "There is scientific evidence that proves it…some people _can_ rub their stomach and pat their heads at the same time."

Elliot was sitting at their desk, writing a report. He was watching them with a grin. When he saw her, his grin got wider and he shook his head at her. She could read his mind: _Can you believe those two?_

She chuckled and took off her jacket. "How long has this one lasted?" she asked him.

Elliot looked at his watch. "Two minutes, fourteen seconds," he answered with a laugh. "Cragen will owe me five bucks if they keep going for another minute and forty-six seconds."

It was a daily routine for someone to bet on how long those two could argue. If given the chance, Olivia had no doubts that they could spend an entire shift just sniping at each other.

"Oh, yeah, brainiac?" Fin suddenly snapped, obviously disgusted. "Name** one** person you know that can do it."

When Munch went silent, Fin laughed. "See?" he cried gleefully. "That proves it!"

"Just because I don't personally know any doesn't mean-" Munch started to reply.

Olivia looked up to see a knowing evil gleam in her partner's eyes. He raised his eyebrows to her, and she understood his message. They both stood up, drawing the attention of the other two, and looked at each other.

At the same time, both of them began rubbing their stomachs and patting their heads.

Munch smiled over at his partner. He was watching them with disgust on his face. "God damn it, you guys!" he cried. With a huff, he turned around and began working on a report.

They cracked up. Olivia was happy to see that her partner appeared to be in better spirits than he had been yesterday. As he moved back to his chair, she suddenly noticed what he was wearing: jeans, tennis shoes, and a white hooded sweatshirt that had QUEENS COLLEGE written across it.

"What…is it casual Tuesday?" she asked him. "Why didn't I get that memo?"

He looked at her, startled, and glanced down at his attire. "Oh…no," Elliot said. "The Crown Vic is due to be serviced and Cap said it's my turn to bring it in. He said not to bother dressing up because I probably won't get back in time to do any work anyways."

He held his breath as she looked at him, and was relieved when she nodded acknowledgement. He quickly bent his head down so that she wouldn't see the telltale blush coming over his face.

"Alright, people," Cragen said as he came out of his office. "One police plaza has just notified me of a body that was found near 16th and Harlem…looks to have been sodomized."

The detectives all looked at each other with the same look of dismay before getting up.

"You know the drill," Cragen said, turning back toward his office. "Call me when you get something. Elliot, come get the keys and paperwork for the sedan."

"See you later," Elliot said to them as they left.

He walked into the office. Cragen shut the door and went back to his desk, switching gears instantly into concerned father mode. "You can have the whole day if you want…you know that, right?" he asked.

Elliot nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "I appreciate it….but it's not necessary. Besides, I don't want to leave Olivia by herself all day. It wouldn't be fair."

Don nodded. He had known Elliot would refuse the offer, but had wanted to try anyway. "Listen, Elliot….you can talk to me anytime you need to," he said awkwardly. "Not just here…you know, at home, too."

The detective sighed, his eyes sliding closed momentarily. "Thank you," he said finally. He knew inwardly that he would never take his boss up on the offer. It was better off forgotten.

A minute of heavy silence ensued. Cragen broke it by clearing his throat. "Well, here you go," he said, handing over the keys.

Elliot nodded to him and turned around.

"Oh….Elliot," Cragen called, just before he got outside. He paused with his hand on the door and looked at him in question.

Don smiled mischievously. "If anyone asks…the car needs a new fan belt."

Laughter glinted in Elliot's eyes. "You got it," he replied.

Don sighed heavily when the door shut. He turned around and unlocked the bottom desk drawer of his desk, pulling a file from the very back corner. He had been shocked when Elliot had asked him for it, but he couldn't say no to him…he had never been able to deny Elliot Stabler of anything.

He only hoped that the detective would heed his advice….the last thing Elliot needed was to be alone with his thoughts after he read it.

"What've we got, Jenson?" Munch asked when they arrived at the scene.

The Asian man stood up from his crouched position beside the man lying face-down on the pavement. "Looks to have been sodomized pre-mortem," he said, pulling off his gloves. "My guess is a gang fight…look at all of the footprints."

Olivia, Fin, and Munch followed his pointing finger. There were at least four other sets of footprints besides the victim's; they stood out starkly thanks to the dusting of the CSU technicians.

"Look at that," Olivia said, bending down. She brushed her hand towards one of the sets, which were smaller than the others. "A woman?"

"Or a guy with small feet," Fin said dryly.

She shot him an exasperated look. John crouched next to her to study the body. The white man was beaten so severely that his face looked like hamburger meat. Someone had punched him so hard that a few of his teeth were lying on the ground next to him.

He moved on, his gaze raking over the man's back. The shirt he wore was torn to shreds.

"Any ID on him?" Fin asked.

Jenson nodded, handing him a plastic bag with a wallet and driver's license inside. "Antonio Morton," he said. "If it was a mugging, they didn't take very much. I'll be willing to bet that the guys who did this to him were drunk, though."

That got Olivia's attention. "Why's that?" she asked, standing to face him.

Jenson turned and pointed to his left. It was then that she realized that they were standing in an alley that connected to a street club called "The Matador". The victim was lying directly across from the fire exit.

"I don't think it was a mugging."

Olivia and Fin brought their gazes back over quickly. John's voice was grim.

"Why do you say that?" Jenson asked, going over to him. The others followed.

Munch had donned rubber gloves and had pulled the man's jeans off of his waist. They crouched down to join him.

"Good God," Olivia yelped, unable to sustain her shock and disgust.

Jenson looked appalled and bewildered. "I'd say we missed a spot," he murmured weakly.

There were few things that could make the detectives of SVU speechless…this was definitely one of them.

Antonio Morton had a long necked Heineken bottle shoved up his rectum.

Munch swallowed hard and got up, walking a few feet away. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed a number.

"Captain," he said, when Cragen picked up. "You're not going to like this one…"

Olivia had to park two blocks over from the other two. There were times when she really hated living in New York…even with her police department license plates she couldn't get a decent parking spot. At least she wouldn't get towed.

"Meet you back at the station," Fin called to her, as they walked in opposite directions.

She sighed, digging out her car keys. _What is it that makes people do such disgusting things?_ She had thought she had seen every possible act of sexual degradation there was…today proved her wrong. Wryly, she remembered a conversation she'd had with her mother when she had first joined SVU.

"_I really wish you would consider getting out of that unit!"_ _Serena had said with conviction._

"_Mother…don't," she'd responded. "Not tonight… please?"_

Her mother had thought it was ludicrous to even consider taking a job working with sexual offenses. Funny…Olivia had always thought that if anyone, her mother would have been the first to support the idea. She had been, after all, a rape victim herself.

She continued to her car at a leisurely pace, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her face. She saw a car sitting at the end of the street and suddenly recognized it. It was the SVU unit Crown Victoria. She stared at it, puzzled. Hadn't Elliot taken that to get serviced? What was it doing all the way down here?

Panic lodged in her chest, and her concern for her partner had her running.

"Elliot?" she called, pulling her gun.

She peered inside, and then looked around the car. As she came around to the back, she saw an ornate iron gate across the street that read FAIRLAWN CEMETARY. Just beyond that, stood Elliot. She sighed in relief at seeing her partner unhurt.

She started to cross the street toward him, but stopped. Perhaps he wouldn't appreciate her presence. He was on his knees and looked to be very upset. She watched him place two bouquets down and touch the stone. Then he stood and walked toward the entrance. She darted behind a parked truck quickly, even though she knew he probably couldn't see her. She saw him wipe his face and put on a pair of sunglasses before getting in the car and driving away.

Waiting until he was out of sight, Olivia crossed the street and walked toward the cemetery. She walked in cautiously, half-expecting someone to yell that she didn't belong there. Cemeteries always made her feel like she was intruding. It felt oddly familiar, though she couldn't place why.

She walked along the stones. When she spotted the two bouquets, she knew she had found it. It was a simple white grave marker. There were no fancy inscriptions or pictures on it like the ones surrounding it, just a name etched in bold black:

**E. Sanford**

There was no birth or death date listed. Olivia chewed on her lip, wondering who this person was and how Elliot knew him or her. It had frightened her to see him so upset; she had never seen him that way before.

She spent the entire drive back to Manhattan pondering over what she had witnessed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

When they returned to the precinct, they could hear music blaring above them.

"What the hell is that?" Munch asked Cragen.

"I think it's Elliot," he answered. "He's been up there for almost an hour."

He looked pointedly at Olivia after he said this, and she knew what he was thinking. Setting her keys down, she headed up the stairs.

The music got louder the further up she went. She crossed through the crib and into the workout room. The stereo in the corner of the room was blasting the Beastie Boys. Elliot was on pounding one of the treadmills at the far end, sprinting hard.

Olivia winced as she got near the stereo and turned it down.

Her partner whipped his head around in surprise, slowing when he saw her. "Hey, Liv," he gasped.

"Hey," she replied, walking across the room toward him. When she got closer, she saw that his dark blue t-shirt was soaked with sweat, as were all of the exposed areas of his skin.

Elliot jumped down, mopping his face with a towel. He grabbed the water bottle from the holder in the side of the machine and gulped the rest down, his lips making a loud sucking noise.

She shook her head in mock disgust. "You sound like a baby pig when you do that."

He gave her a dirty look, sloshing the water around his mouth. She saw the mischievous glint in his eyes a minute before he spit water at her. Surprised, she leaped back, but wasn't quick enough to avoid getting wet.

"Oh, _that's_ mature," she said in disgust.

She felt her breath catch when he flashed a dazzling smile. It was one of the rare ones that she had missed seeing lately…it was the first thing that had caught her eye when she had first met him. She had never seen such a beautiful smile before or since. His entire face lit up, his eyes sparkled, and his lips spread to reveal a row of perfect teeth.

The squad would probably laugh themselves silly if they knew about how Elliot spent an hour every night brushing and flossing, or that he had a toothbrush hidden in his desk drawer and would brush his teeth after eating anything….even something as little as a peppermint.

She followed him as he went over to the bank of lockers. The one he was using was hanging open. He stopped in front of it and peeled off his sweaty shirt, stuffing it inside and pulling out another towel.

"So what's the story on this new vic?" he asked.

Olivia had to make a conscious effort not to stare at his abdomen. The man was built like a brick wall…it drove her nuts. She knew for a fact that he hadn't done a crunch since he was in boot camp, and if given the chance, could eat an entire bag if Oreos in ten minutes.

She shuddered as she remembered the scene. "Not pretty," she said grimly. "Guy had an unpleasant meeting with a Heineken bottle."

He looked at her in confusion.

She raised her eyebrows. "Right up the ass."

His face screwed up in repulsion immediately. "Sick," he said in disgust. He started to say something else, but could only shake his head.

She went back downstairs while he took a shower. He came down the stairs ten minutes later, just as the captain was coming out of his office. He had a file tucked under one arm.

"Look, guys," he said. He looked at the wall clock. "We can't do anything more on this new case until I get in touch with the commissioner, and he's been in a meeting all day. Looks like you get to go home early again today."

He saw the looks of delight on their faces. "Don't get used to it," he said sternly, fixing them each with a firm look. They saw right past his tough act though; the twinkle in his eyes him away. He liked being able to give them a break whenever he could…they were the best team he had.

"Thanks, Captain," Elliot said, as they were walking out.

Cragen smiled weakly as he watched them leave. Sighing, he pulled the file out from under his arm. He briefly flipped through it again, even though he had already memorized it from reading it so many times. Shaking his head, he closed it and placed it on Elliot's desk before going back to his office.

The four of them headed to the pool hall after leaving work. Olivia had come along this time, as promised, and had pestered Elliot about going until he finally gave in.

She felt the tension of the day leaving as they sat around a small round table with a pitcher of beer. The hall was loud, crowded, and busy. It felt wonderful to be able to leave the pressures of their job behind for a little while and act like normal people.

"Who's up for a game of pool?" Munch asked. He looked pointedly at his partner

. "I don't even want to hear anything from you, man," Fin said. "You still owe me from the last game when you cheated."

"I scratched!" he exclaimed in defense.

"The ball bounced onto _another table_!" Fin said to the other two. "I'm sure it was just a coincidence that you got to call a "do-over"."

Elliot looked at Munch in amusement. "Is there even such a thing as a "do-over" with pool?" he asked.

Olivia laughed at the stunned look on Fin's face.

"You dirty cheater!" he said. He stood up quickly. "That's it….rack 'em up. We'll see who the _real_ pool shark is around here."

She shook her head, chuckling, as they went to a pool table. She turned to face Elliot, sitting beside her. He was leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, and she was pleased to see that he looked genuinely relaxed.

His electric blue eyes met hers. "This was a good idea," he said. "Thanks."

The detectives didn't stay too long, and they were careful about stopping after one pitcher of beer. They still had to go to work the next day. True gentleman that he was, Elliot walked Olivia to her car, even though his own was parked in the other direction.

He waited while she unlocked the door, pushing his hands in his pockets for warmth. His breath came in clouds of condensation.

"Night, Liv," he said, when she got in. "See you tomorrow."

She reached out and grabbed his wrist when he turned to walk away. He looked at her in surprise. She fixed him with a look. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to let you walk five blocks alone at this time of night," she said.

"Chill out, Olivia," he said, rolling his eyes at her. "Nobody mugs cops."

She fixed him with a fierce glare as she opened the passenger door, and he laughed. "Ok, ok!" he said, holding his hands up in surrender. He walked around and got inside.

"Thanks," he said when she pulled up next to his truck. He opened the door.

"Hey," she called suddenly, stopping him. He turned toward her. Olivia bit the inside of her cheek, staring into his face as if searching for an answer there. "You're my best friend," she finally said. "You know that, right? No matter what?"

Elliot cocked his head, puzzled. His eyes narrowed in confusion. "I know," he said quizzically. He stared at her, watching emotion cloud her eyes. "What's wrong, Liv?" he asked.

For a brief minute, she wanted to confess that she had seen him at the cemetery. But she chickened out. Smiling, she shook her head and shrugged. "Nothing," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He surprised her then by leaning over and giving her a warm hug. "You're my best friend, too," he said. She hugged him back, breathing in the spicy scent of his cologne. It was a comforting smell. He pulled away after a minute and kissed her cheek lightly. "Nothing will ever change that."

She was stunned by the sweet gesture. Elliot had never been a touchy-feely kind of guy. He climbed out and winked playfully. "Later."

He got into his truck and watched her drive away. He wondered why Olivia had suddenly felt the need to remind him that he was her best friend. Not that he minded…it was just strange. Olivia had never been the type to verbalize her feelings. She didn't need to. They both knew how much the other cherished the friendship they had….they just had different ways of showing it.

A yawn ambushed him as he headed toward the expressway. He stretched one arm out, making the keys dangle in the ignition when he brushed them. A sudden light bulb went off in his head as he realized the keys were spares.

"Ah, damn it!" he griped. He had thrown his set of keys in the locker upstairs when he went to work out earlier. He had come downstairs after his shower and had forgotten to go back for them, grabbing the spare set that he kept in his desk as they were leaving. He had forgotten that his house keys weren't on that set.

Grumbling, he turned around and headed back toward Manhattan. _So much for a decent amount of sleep tonight._

He keyed the alarm system outside and put in the password. The front door unlocked and he hurried through the dark halls toward the elevator.

Stepping off, he headed toward the squad room. He was unnerved about how creepy the place felt when no one was there. Pushing open the double doors, he took the steps quickly upstairs.

The squeak of the locker opening was amplified by the empty room. He reached in and grabbed his keys. The scraping against the metal echoed annoyingly. Pocketing them, Elliot quickly left the dark gym.

When he passed by his desk, he noticed a file that hadn't been there when he left. Stopping, he picked it up and walked toward the doors.

He made it two steps outside the squad room before stopping in his tracks. Papers fell from the folder he held, but he barely noticed. His heart leaped into his throat as he read the page on top:

**Trial Date: March 17, 1976**

**Docket Number 3452: People vs. William Michael Sanford**

We, the jury, find the defendant, William Michael Sanford, guilty on one count of first-degree murder. He is sentenced to fifty years in prison, with possibility of parole after thirty years.

_Thirty years…_Panic crashed down on him. _Holy shit…holy shit! That's next week!_

The tiredness he felt was gone in a second. His heart began pumping wildly, and he took off toward the staircase.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

The first thing Elliot did when he got home was go straight to the medicine cabinet. He wasn't planning on sleeping, but needed the high now more than ever. After popping the muscle relaxers, he carried the bottle of Jack Daniels with him back out of the apartment.

The building was quiet, as it should be a 1 am. He locked the door behind him and took the elevator to the basement.

The atmosphere changed drastically when the doors opened. He hadn't been down here since….hell…he _hadn't_ come down here before. He had been in the one at his old building, but after he moved to this one there hadn't been a reason to. It wasn't as cared for as the one in his old building, that was for sure.

Elliot wrinkled his nose at the dust that was visible in the air around him. _Lord…who maintains this place?_ He moved to the end of the corridor and opened the junction box, praying he didn't screw something up and turn off the power in the whole building. He found the switch for the basement and flipped it on.

He was dismayed when only about a quarter of the light bulbs hanging from the ceiling responded, and even those were flickering. "Figures," he muttered, shaking his head.

But he really wouldn't have cared if it was pitch black down here. He had a mission in mind, and nothing was getting in his way. Continuing down the hall, he looked all around for what he was looking for. He came to the end of the hall and was forced to turn around. Retracing his steps, he came past the junction box again and turned right. After walking past the boiler room, there were no other rooms that way.

Frustration was starting to make his fingers twitch. He balled his hands into tight fists, clenched them at his sides, and went in the opposite direction again. Finally, at the end of this corridor, he spotted the door marked **STORAGE. **

The tension evaporated as his heart began beating wildly in anticipation. He practically ran to the door and turned the knob, only to find it locked. _Oh, hell no._ Locked doors had never stopped Elliot before. He took a few steps back and prepared to kick it in. Thankfully, his common sense caught up to him then. He really didn't need to have the super on his ass for destroying this door.

Elliot stopped and took a calming breath, forcing himself to focus. _There has to be another way to get inside,_ he reasoned. _Not everyone is strong enough to kick down doors anyway, right?_

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Extracting a credit card, he went back up to the door and wriggled the plastic into the tiny sliver of space between the door and the wall. Sliding it down toward the doorknob, he planted his feet and gave the wood a few strong jerks with his shoulder. He grunted in satisfaction when it popped open.

Sliding the card back into his pocket, he slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind him. The spacious room was filled with large storage lockers for each apartment. Scanning the ones closest to him, he figured out the order they were going in and started trolling the area for his. He pulled out his keys and unlocked it.

His eyes narrowed in concentration as he went inside, quickly flickering over the contents. He bit his lip. _Where the hell is it? _He began kicking aside boxes, most of which had been put there just a few days ago. _It has to be here_….there. He pushed through piles of boxes and old furniture and made his way to the back corner.

The small tub was sealed tightly with duct tape so old that it looked to be crumbling. Elliot had forgotten all about it until he discovered it buried under a pile of insulation one summer, years before the divorce. He had written "Elliot's college stuff" on it to keep anyone in his family from wanting to open it. It worked….he hadn't given it a second glance when he had found it.

He tore the tape away easily and popped the lid. His hands had suddenly started to shake, and he stopped as he got ready to lift it off. Elliot hadn't looked at any of this stuff in almost three decades…he had wanted to burn it, to tell the truth. But his heart wouldn't let him go through with it, and so here it sat in all its tortured glory.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, shakily bringing his hands down. Blindly, he reached for the bottle of alcohol, suddenly thankful he had brought it. He tipped his head back and began sucking the liquor down, ignoring the burn. Taking one more deep breath and trying to choke down the bile that was creeping up the back of his throat, Elliot grasped the lid again and slid it off of the tub.

Olivia was pissed. She had gone to bed two hours ago, and was so exhausted that she couldn't see straight. But no matter what she did, her body just wouldn't shut down. She had tossed, turned, and stared at the clock for what seemed like forever before finally giving up.

She sat on the couch with a mug of hot tea and aimlessly flipped through the television channels for a few minutes, finding nothing of interest. Sighing, she switched the set off and curled her legs up under her, reaching beside her into the drawer of the coffee table.

As her hand curled around a book she had stashed there, her gaze fell on the picture frame sitting beside the lamp. The photo was large enough to fill a good-sized frame, but small enough for her to walk past it a hundred times a day and not really look at it. Taking her hand out of the drawer, she picked it up and brought it closer to her.

It was a picture of Elliot that had been taken at her mother's funeral. Olivia remembered the day well. The viewing had been crowded with friends and colleagues of both she and her mother, but Olivia had requested that only a small number of people attend the funeral.

The SVU squad had been right there with her the whole time, and she was incredibly touched and admittedly surprised. She had only been on the team for a little over a year when her mother had died, and while she expected that they would be sympathetic, she'd been blown away when the four of them dropped everything immediately to help.

They had all been fantastic, but Elliot had gone above and beyond the call. He had asked her to stay with him and his family until after the funeral, but she had refused, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with her grief. That night, he had shown up at her door with dinner and begged her to eat something before she made herself sick.

Olivia's face flushed with shame as she recalled how mean she had been to him. Her emotions were everywhere, and she had lashed out at him to leave her the hell alone before slamming the door in his face. She had stayed in her room and cried for two days. When she finally came out, she found two day's worth of breakfast, lunch, and dinner sitting on her kitchen table, along with a note from Elliot telling her that he was sorry about using her spare key to get inside.

She had grabbed her keys and flung open the door, preparing to go to Queens. When she saw him asleep against the wall next to her apartment, she had started to cry. She knew that he had been there since that night she had yelled at him. The next thing she knew they were in her apartment and he was hugging her as she fell apart. He had stayed there for two straight days, listening when she wanted to talk and holding her when the grief became unbearable.

They had been close before as partners, but those two days were what made Olivia deem him her best friend. The four men had volunteered to serve as pallbearers at the funeral, and someone had snapped a picture of the gravesite for the funeral home's records. The photographer had angled the shot just enough to catch a bit the left side of the casket, where Elliot had been positioned.

When Olivia saw it, she had been overwhelmed by what a beautiful candid shot it was. Elliot was standing at parade rest, one hand crisply saluting in respect. He was dressed sharply in full dress uniform, identical to the others' except for the United States Marine Corp patch that stood out proudly on his right shoulder.

But what touched her most about the photo was his face. He'd kept his expression firm and professional, but his blue eyes were bright were tears of sorrow and grief….for her. His eyes alone told Olivia how much it was hurting him to see her hurting.

She had snuck it out of the funeral home record book and copied it, cropping the surroundings out and enlarging his pose before framing it. She hadn't told Elliot about it, and likely never would, but it was her favorite of all the ones in her house. It reminded her of how lucky she was to have such a wonderful person in her life.

She brought the frame back to its resting place. Her thoughts drifted back to what she had seen earlier that day. Something had seriously upset him, but she had no clue what it was. This time he was refusing to let her in.

Elliot had been combing through the tub for three hours, and in that time had uncovered things that he had hoped to never see again in his lifetime. A pile of photographs was lifted out next. He pulled the rubber band off with trembling fingers and began slowly flipping through them.

The images captured raw carnage and brutal death. Each Polaroid was carefully labeled with the date and name of the crime scene technician who had been at the scene. His throat closed when he recognized the background amidst the blood and macabre.

He pulled out stack after stack of pictures- even the tiniest speck had been photographed as evidence. Finally, all that was left was a file at the very bottom of the tub. He caught a glimpse of his watch as he reached down for it, and saw that it was now 4:15 in the morning. Exhaustion had long since passed; he was so tired now that he was almost loopy.

The file was so old that it fell apart in his hands, its contents scattering everywhere. He reached down and retrieved the first one he could reach. When he saw what it was, his restraint broke. He slumped roughly against the wall, his body going limp.

He wrapped his arms around his middle and sobbed so hard that he couldn't catch his breath. Rage, frustration, and pain assaulted him all at once. When combined with extreme fatigue and too much alcohol, there was little his body could do to fight back. He ended up falling into an exhausted sleep right there on the floor of the basement.

The paper he was clutching fell from his limp grasp and fluttered slowly to the floor, landing beside the photographs. It was crinkled and yellowed with age, but the words had the same effect now that they did all those years ago:

**Certificate of Death**

**Elle Julia Sanford**

**April 12, 1974**

**10:34 PM**

Cragen was immediately on alert when he saw that only three-quarters of his team had arrived at work by 9 am. He had noticed that the file he had placed on Elliot's desk was now gone, and it worried him.

The ringing of the phone on his desk distracted him, and he went to get it.

"_I love you," she said, looking into his blue eyes. She stroked his cheek lovingly. "More than anything else in the entire world."_

_She seemed sad, and he wondered why._

_He sat on the edge of the canopy bed and brushed the hair tenderly from his daughter's eyes. Six-year old Maureen looked up at him tiredly, smiling that special smile reserved only for her father._

_He smiled at her. "I love you," he whispered. "More than anything else in the entire world."_

"_I love you too, Daddy," she answered._

Elliot jumped awake with a gasp. His heart pounding, he looked around wildly, not recognizing his surroundings. A second later, realization crashed down on him as he remembered where he was.

He eased away from the wall, groaning instantly at the knots in his back. "Damn it," he muttered, stretching in a vain attempt to ease the horrible ache that had wrapped around his bones.

His arm popped when he reached up to rub his face. He looked at his watch.

"Oh, shit!" he cried, instantly awake.

He gathered up everything around him and hastily shoved it back into the tub, throwing the lid back on. He shoved it back into the mass of junk and took off out of the storage area.

The phone on her desk rang at 9:15. Olivia paused in writing out her report and reached for it. "Benson," she said.

"Liv," Elliot said. "Tell Cragen I'm on my way right now."

"Where are you?" she asked, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. "Don't tell me you had a hangover."

He rolled his eyes as he sped toward Manhattan. "Please," he scoffed. "You had more to drink than I did."

She said nothing, and he imagined her sitting there, rolling her eyes and pretending to ignore him.

"Just tell him I'll be there in five minutes," he said, and hung up.

"Olivia."

She looked up as she was hanging up the phone. Cragen was standing in front of the desk with a stern expression. "Have you talked-?"

"He's on his way," she interrupted, anticipating his words. "He just called….said he'll be here in five minutes."

Two minutes later, Elliot flew through the squad room doors. He threw his things down on the desk, making her papers fly everywhere.

She looked up at him in annoyance and began to scold him, but suddenly noticed that he was wearing the same jeans and sweatshirt that he had been wearing the day before.

He noticed her quizzical look as he was dashing for the stairs.

"Don't ask," he said quickly, taking the stairs two at a time.

He pulled out the spare work clothes that he kept in his gym locker and dressed in a hurry, coming back down the stairs just as Cragen was coming out of his office.

"I don't have time to wait for-" he began saying as he handed files to the three detectives.

He looked up and stopped talking. Elliot flushed under the glare he fixed on him.

"Sorry, sir," he said, striding back to his desk. "Overslept."

Olivia saw Cragen's mouth twitch as he stood silently. "You guys look these over for a minute," he said finally. He turned and got face-to-face with Elliot just as he was getting ready to sit down. "My office, Elliot. Now."

The other three went silent, watching Elliot walk into the office. Cragen pulled the blinds on the outside of the door before following him inside and shutting the door.

"Uh-oh," Munch muttered, grimacing. He picked up the file. "This could get messy."

"Captain, I was-" Elliot said as he came into the office.

"Shut up," Cragen barked, making him jump in surprise. He clamped his mouth shut instantly and swallowed hard. His boss looked pissed.

Don got up in Elliot's personal space, his face stormy. "This is going to stop right now," he growled angrily. "Either you take sick leave until you're done with this or you straighten your ass up before I suspend you."

"What?" Elliot exploded, appalled. His face twisted in confusion.

"I'm not going to have my team jeopardized because of your personal life," Cragen barreled on. "Now, you're either here or you're not. This halfway participation thing is going to end up getting somebody killed. You've got a job to do…. do it or go home."

The detective's face reflected anger, frustration, and finally helplessness. He began to speak, bit his lip, and shook his head. His eyes fixed on the ground.

After a minute of tense silence, Cragen sighed. He hadn't meant to lose his temper as much as he had. "Look, Elliot," he said, his voice softening. "I'm doing this for you. I'm worried about you."

Elliot raised his eyes to meet his. His voice shook. "Captain," he said. "You know this-"

"Yes, Elliot," Cragen interrupted. "I understand what you're feeling right now, and I sympathize with you a hundred percent. That's why I'm offering you leave so that you can get yourself together. It's not a punishment, son."

Elliot sighed and rolled his neck, popping the tense muscles. "I'm sorry," he said finally, closing his eyes momentarily. Like it or not, he had to suck it up and start concentrating. "I promise… no more distractions."

Don eyed him carefully. "You know you can talk to me," he reminded him. "I really do mean that."

He nodded quickly. "I know, Captain," he said. "I appreciate it, really...but let's just get to work, ok?"

Cragen sighed inwardly in annoyance at the avoidance tactic, but let him off the hook. "Alright, then," he said. "I got some information on this latest case…and you're going to have to be our key player in this. You ready for that?"

He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "I'm ready, Cap," he said.

Nodding, Cragen said, "Let's get to it."

He followed Elliot out of the office and prepared to put the plan in motion.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

Olivia handed Elliot the file to look over while Cragen began speaking. When he opened it, he spotted a tiny note scrawled in the top corner.

_Did you get detention?_

She watched him choke on a laugh. His eyes shot up to meet hers, twinkling in amusement. She grinned.

"Alright you guys," Don said. "So here's the deal. Elliot, you're going to be going in undercover."

Olivia's face reflected the shock Elliot felt. "Alone?" she asked.

Don saw the protective look in her eyes immediately. "Yes and no," he said. Seeing her about to raise hell, he held up his hands quickly. "Will you let me explain?" She sat back, glowering.

"Your victim, Antonio Morton, owns the bar that he was found outside of as well as the penthouse directly above it," he said. "The word from the commissioner is that NYPD has been after this guy for almost two decades…he's been running a drug ring from the penthouse after hours. But every time we got close, he took off. We believed there was someone inside who was tipping him off."

Cragen stopped talking them and looked pointedly at Elliot. "Ringing any bells yet?" he asked.

Elliot looked at Olivia in confusion, then Cragen. He shrugged and shook his head.

"We almost nabbed him fourteen years ago," he continued on. "We had him cornered in his latest spot. That's when we discovered that the person who was tipping Morton on the police whereabouts was a cop named Joshua Harris. He shot an officer from his own squad and helped him escape with the drugs, and they both disappeared after that."

They watched the blood suddenly rush from Elliot's face. "Son of a bitch…" he said in shock. His eyes shot wildly to the captain's. "Mother **fucker**!"

"What?" Olivia asked, appalled.

Elliot took a breath and ran a hand over his face. "Harris was the captain of the 1-1 precinct in Queens," he said. "The officer he shot was me."

He looked at Cragen with an intense look in his eyes and said, "When do we go in?"

"Friday morning," he answered.

Olivia shook her head. "Why exactly are we doing this?" she asked. "This sounds more like a job for Narcotics."

"Yeah, well….given the condition of how Morton was found, the commissioner asked us to handle it," he answered wryly.

None of them had to ask what he meant.

"You two," he continued, pointing to Munch and Fin. "You're going to be looking for potential buyers. Your job is to let everyone within a thirty mile radius know about the drug ring at The Matador. Olivia, you and I will be acting surveillance with back-up officers. Once we get a contact, Narcotics will step in and bust the whole ring." He looked around. "It should be a fairly easy op."

They all sat silent when he finished, mulling over this information.

"Hold up, Cap," Fin said. He had a doubtful look on his face. Cragen looked at him. "You expect _him _to pass as a druggie?" He was pointing at his partner.

"Hey!" Munch said in defense. He leaned over his desk. "I'll have you know I have a dark side to my mystique."

Fin scoffed. "Please," he spat. "John, there ain't nothin' dark about yo' skinny ass. You're as pasty as Elmer's glue."

"Matrix complex," Munch continued, like he hadn't heard. He wasn't offended by his partner. "Mind over matter." He tapped a finger to the side of his head to prove his point.

Cragen watched them for a minute and rolled his eyes.

"We'll touch base about this later," Cragen said. " Paperwork, people." With that, he went back into his office.

Elliot was laughing at Fin and Munch, who were now arguing over whose paper stack was thicker. He noticed Olivia was completely oblivious, a distant look on her face.

"Liv?" he asked. He snapped his fingers in front of her and she jumped.

"Oh, sorry," she said. She started writing, embarrassed she had been caught in deep thought. She knew Elliot was looking at her, so she kept her face down to avoid his gaze.

She didn't like the idea of her partner going in undercover alone. She also didn't like the fact that she was so worried about him. Why was she? He had proven time and time again that he could handle himself; he was a great cop. She knew that. So why did her stomach refuse to unclench itself?

The rest of the day, Olivia was waging a mental battle in her mind. Should she go to the Captain with her concerns? Don Cragen was a tough boss, but he was also the most kind-hearted man she had ever known. He cared about the four of them like they were his own children.

He always checked up on them when they called out sick; one time he had even slept over at Fin's apartment when he was so sick he couldn't leave his bed. He settled fights and mended spirits when the job got too much to handle. No matter how rough of a day he himself had, Cragen always offered an ear when one of them was upset, and often times helped them solve whatever problem they were facing with sound advice. He was affectionately dubbed "Dad" for a reason.

But she also knew that going to her boss could make Elliot feel like she didn't trust him, and that wasn't true by any means. She trusted him….it was the scum he would have to interact with that she didn't.

She sighed in frustration. What was _wrong_ with her? Something she hated more than anything was the way the males in the unit sometimes wanted to play big brother and protect her. But when it came to her partner, she found herself wanting to take on anything that dared mess with him.

Elliot was a good man; he had such a caring heart. Olivia had always been bitter and cynical towards the world until she met him. His kind spirit and compassionate nature had humbled her- he was always trying to put the good back in the world.

Coming out of her thoughts, she looked across from her. Elliot was busily working on a file, oblivious. She sat there, taking in the striking features that she knew like the back of her hand, and came to a decision. Getting up, she walked over to Cragen's door.

Elliot quickly put his pen down when Olivia got up. Looking around to make sure the others weren't paying attention, he quickly fired up his computer and typed in his password.

He looked around again anxiously as he waited for the website to come up. When it did, he keyed in for an official search and typed in **Bedford Hills Correctional Facilities**

After a minute, the results popped up:

**26 **matches found. Results **1-4**

Institute for Children of Incarcerated Women….a series of non-profit **facilities….**

New York Police Department…School of **Correctional** Training

**Bedford **Sheriff's Department

Saint Leo Maximum Security **Correctional** Center for Men….**Bedford Hills, **New York

His eyes narrowed and he clicked on the last link.

Don looked up at the knock on his office door, his concentration on the phone conversation with the captain of Bronx SVU broken. He waved Olivia in and gestured to a chair. She smiled in thanks and waited patiently while he concluded the call.

He folded his hands on his desk and smiled at her. She was surprised to see his relaxed demeanor. "What's up, Detective?" he asked, traces of laughter in his voice. She smiled slightly; she was sure that the phone call hadn't been about business.

"Well, Captain…" All amusement fled her expression as she concentrated on why she was there. "Um…it's-it's kind of hard to explain," she said awkwardly.

He looked at her quizzically.

She held up her head with confidence that she didn't feel and said boldly, "I think putting us on this case is a bad idea."

Under normal circumstances, Don would be extremely angry if one of his detectives had the nerve to question his command. But he could tell by Olivia's demeanor that she wasn't trying to disrespect him, and he had a pretty good idea of what the problem was.

"Really," he said. He unfolded his hands and looked her in the eye. "Well…I'm sorry you feel that way."

She looked at him, trying to decide if he was trying to placate her. "I'm serious," she pressed. "It's not going to work."

She knew she was on shaky ground, and wondered briefly if he was angry at her. He didn't _look _angry…

She realized that she hadn't been listening to a word he was saying.

"…but I feel it is, and I want all of you to cooperate. Do I have to make it an order?"

The frustration was evident in her tone as she answered, "No." She shook her head and got up.

"Olivia." He got up from his chair, stopping her. Her eyes were pained when she looked at him. "Why don't you tell me what's really wrong?"

She shook her head, sighing, and sat back down. He sat in the chair beside her. "I just have a bad feeling about this case." He nodded and waited for her to continue. She didn't.

"Why?" he prodded.

"I don't like that we have to go undercover."

He looked at her pointedly and said, "You mean you don't like that _Elliot_ has to go undercover."

She looked at him a minute and nodded. "I know it's crazy to be worried," she burst out, before he could say anything. "We've gone undercover hundreds of times. But we were always..."

"Together?" he finished for her.

She lowered her eyes.

He ducked his head to look in her eyes. "Olivia." Her lip was quivering, but he knew she wouldn't cry.

"I know you care about Elliot, and you don't want anything to happen to him," he said. "I don't either. I hate putting any of you in danger. Believe me; if there was a way to keep all of you in my sight all the time, I'd do it."

She raised her eyes.

"But you have to have faith that it will turn out alright," he continued. "Elliot is a good cop; he knows how to take care of himself. And he's not going to be _alone_…we're all going to be backing his every move. Including you."

She nodded, stronger this time. She still didn't like it, but she knew she would have to accept it. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry, Captain."

"Have you talked to Elliot about this?" he asked

. She shook her head.

"Maybe you should," he suggested.

Olivia stood up abruptly, startling him. "No," she said quickly. "No….he doesn't need to know about this. I'm overreacting." She reached for the door handle. "Sorry to bother you, Captain."

She was gone before he could think of a reply.

The detectives wrapped up at around 8:30 that night.

"See you guys," Fin said as he left.

"Munch, you coming?" Elliot asked, as he and Olivia went to their lockers.

John looked up from the report he was writing and sighed. "Not yet," he said. "Fin won…my stack is a lot thicker than his." He gave them a pointed look. "You better take that to your graves, got it?"

Olivia smiled in amusement. "Oh sure, Munch," she said, winking at Elliot. "Not a word."

He shook his head and kept writing. "What are you doing tonight?" she asked Elliot, putting the padlock back in place.

Elliot froze. "Oh…um…not much," he stammered. "I've got to catch up on those bills I've been putting off before the landlord evicts me." He smiled to let her know he wasn't really serious.

"Wow…that's um…" She grimaced. "That's really pathetic." She turned toward him and grinned to take any sting out of her words.

He glared playfully. "Excuse me?" he asked, slipping his coat on. "This from the woman who skipped out on a New Year's Eve party to watch a "Seinfeld" marathon?"

Olivia glared back. "Don't _even,_" she said playfully. She stabbed a finger at his chest. "You came over and watched it with me!"

She laughed at his blush as they left the squad room

His thoughts were a whirlwind as he got behind the wheel of his Explorer. Sighing, he let the engine idle and the truck warm up as he dropped his face in his hands. He took a few deep breaths and forced himself to push the case out of his mind.

After a minute, he removed a piece of paper from his pocket. He stared at the address he had scrawled there, and swallowed hard as a huge knot formed in his gut. The case immediately flew from his mind as he thought about what he was about to do.

He made sure to calculate the time carefully. There was no way he could show up late again tomorrow, so he had to get this done before 9 am. If he drove straight through with no stops, he would be there in five hours.

Sighing again, he shifted the truck into drive and headed for Bedford Hills.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

Elliot had been downing Mountain Dew since midnight. It always drove him crazy….no matter how much of the stuff he drank, it never quenched his thirst. In fact, it only made him thirstier. He had bought a 12-pack during his lunch break….he covered it up by saying he was buying it because his kids were coming next weekend.

The clock now read 2:15 am. He yawned so hugely that his jaw popped and scrubbed a hand wearily over his face. _Come on Dew….don't fail me now. _ He was counting on the caffeine buzz to get him through the last few miles.

After what seemed like an eternity, Elliot finally saw the sign he was searching for: **Saint Leo Correctional Facility….5 miles.**

He pulled off of the interstate and turned onto a side road that was extremely dark. Turning on his high beams, he slowed his speed and cautiously followed it. After about ten minutes, barbed wire came into view.

His hands began shaking as he pulled up to the gate. The guard on duty looked at him in suspicion, striding up to the window. He looked mean….Elliot figured if he had to sit up and watch a prison at two in the morning, he would probably be mean, too.

"Help you?" the black man said gruffly.

The fear decided to invade at that moment, and Elliot felt his heart start to race frantically in anticipation. He stared at the man blankly, tightening his sweaty fingers on the steering wheel. _Dear lord…what the hell am I doing here?_

He fumbled clumsily for his wallet and handed it to him. The man opened it, revealing his badge and identification. He looked back at Elliot in surprise as he returned it.

"Go ahead," he said, pressing a button.

His mouth had gone dry, and all he could do was nod and give the man a tight-lipped smile. The iron gates opened, and he drove through.

John thought he was dreaming when he heard the phone ringing. The high-pitched noise crashed into his dreams and he awoke in a fog of confusion. He groaned and covered his head with his pillow, but it wouldn't stop. Reluctantly, he rolled over and fumbled for his glasses.

"Munch," he said gruffly as he looked at the clock. 2:30 am.

"Sorry to wake you," was the first thing Fin said. "Cap just called…another man was found dead at The Matador about a half-hour ago."

"Damn it," he groaned, but sat up anyway. He scrubbed his face harshly. "Don't these scumbags ever _sleep_?"

Fin was in no mood to hear his partner's complaining…not at this hour. "Call   
Olivia," he said shortly. "Meet you there."

"Why-?" His partner cut him off abruptly, and left John with a dial tone. "Good morning to you, too, Sunshine," he mumbled, disconnecting. He dialed Olivia's number.

Olivia was a light sleeper, and was instantly alert when the phone rang. "Benson," she said quietly, grabbing it.

Munch explained to her what had happened. "On my way," she said, slipping out of bed. She pulled on the jeans she had left sitting on the chair. "Has anyone called Elliot yet?"

"Not yet," he replied.

"I'll do it," she said. "See you there."

His cell phone jangled as he was locking his truck. Reaching into his pocket, Elliot glanced at the number on the caller ID and hesitated. If Olivia was calling him at this hour, it could only be about a case. He glanced from the phone to the building looming in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, Elliot pushed the silent button and put the phone back into his pocket.

"What the hell, Elliot?" Olivia grumbled as she drove toward Harlem. After her second try to his cell phone went unanswered, she hung up and dialed his home number. It rang ten times with no answer. She hissed in frustration and slammed the phone shut. _Is he **trying** to get himself suspended?_

The others were there by the time she arrived. She tried Elliot once more before getting out of the car, with no success.

Cragen was standing with the other two in the alley. She wryly noted that it was a different alley than the one they had been to before.

"What've we got?" she asked tiredly.

Don turned toward her when he heard her voice. "Looks like we have a pattern here," he said grimly.

She noticed that several CSU technicians were milling around the dumpsters behind him. A lump on the ground was covered by a white sheet. There was a trail of blood leading from the dumpsters to the spot where the body was. Several technicians were crouched next to the lower portion of the body, and Olivia could tell by the position of the victim's feet that he was face-down.

Olivia looked Munch, feeling oddly nauseous. "Heineken?" she asked, swallowing hard.

He met her gaze, understanding what she was asking. His voice was tight as he answered, "Smirnoff."

Elliot took a huge breath as he gripped the front door handle. His gut was screaming at him to turn around and get the hell out of there. Expelling the air, he stepped inside.

His heart pounded in his ears with every echo of his footsteps on the tiled floor. The hallway had no signs directing him anywhere. He stopped at the first door he came to and knocked.

A man in a guard's uniform opened it and looked at him suspiciously. "Who are you?"

A lump had formed in his throat, and was growing into the size of a softball. "I…um…" He swallowed. "Um…I'm looking for the warden." Fumbling for his pocket, he took out his badge again, holding it out in front of him like it was a shield. "I just need to ask him a quick question."

The guard was still eying him suspiciously as he took the radio off of his hip. "Glen," he said into it.

"What is it, Evans?" came the crackly reply.

Evans examined his badge. "There's an Elliot Stabler here to see you," he said. His voice sounded almost accusatory. "NYPD."

"Where are you?" the man on the radio asked.

"Station 6," Evans replied.

"Be right down," came the reply.

Turning down the radio again, Evans handed Elliot his badge back. "He'll be coming from that way," he said abruptly, pointing a hand to the left.

"Thanks-" Elliot started to say, but the man shut the door in his face before he could.

_Nice guy, _he thought wryly, walking down the hall.

A minute or so later, a door at the end of the hall opened. A man who looked to be in his late 50's came through, dressed in a white uniform. "You the cop who wanted to see me?" he asked.

Elliot nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Yes…sir," he said. "I actually just-"

"You aren't from Parole, are you?" the man cut in, brushing past him. He started walking away and Elliot had to almost run to keep up.

"No," he answered quickly. "I'm a detective with the Special Victims Unit in Manhattan. The reason-"

The older man turned on his heel abruptly and cut him off again. "Look here, son," he said. "I run a tight ship here. I have 1200 inmates to keep track of. I don't have time to give you the names of every person here who may have been sexually assaulted."

He turned around again and unlocked the door they were standing in front of. "Now as you can see, things are very busy here," he said. "I'll make sure to send a statement once it becomes clear who filed this charge."

Elliot's temper was on a short leash as it was, and his exhaustion wasn't helping. The man moved to close the door on him, and his restraint snapped.

"Hold it!" he yelled, planting his body against the door. "God damn it….would you just listen to me?"

The warden looked at him in shock, which quickly turned to anger.

Elliot sighed deeply and closed his eyes again. "Please sir," he said softly. "I'm sorry….I know you've got a job to do and I promise I won't take long."

The man was still looking at him warily. "I'm not here on behalf of the city," Elliot continued. "This is a personal visit, sir."

The warden suddenly noticed the condition of the man standing in front of him. He looked bone-tired and defeated.

"Come on," he said, finally. "My office is through here."

Elliot sighed in relief and followed him into a large office.

"You want some coffee?" he asked, pouring a cup. Elliot shook his head and the warden took the cup for himself. "What can I do for you, officer?"

Elliot didn't bother to correct him. "There's a man here who is serving a fifty-year sentence for murder," he said. "Our files say he is eligible for parole next week."

The warden logged onto his computer. "What's the guy's name you're looking for?"

"William Sanford," he said anxiously. His heart began pumping wildly again as the warden looked up the information.

The warden stopped typing and was looking at the screen. "William Michael Sanford," he murmured. "Convicted in '74…represented by a Douglas Arthur?"

Elliot's eyes lit up. "Yes," he said excitedly. "Yes, that's him." _Gotcha, you bastard_. He leaned forward and looked intensely at the warden. "Would it be possible for me to speak to him?"

The man looked at him in surprise. The cop looked so eager, like he was about to pounce on an unsuspecting prey. He was silent for a minute.

"Son,' the warden said. He looked at him with trepidation. "William Sanford died of a heart attack five years ago here in prison."

Elliot was shocked into speechlessness.

He mumbled an apology to the warden as he was racing out of the room. Sprinting down the hallway, he managed to make it outside before he began heaving.

There was little the detectives could do at the crime scene, and Cragen was more anxious about their op the next morning. He instructed Munch and Fin to come in ready to go undercover, and told them all to go home and get as much sleep as they could before the morning.

Elliot was thankful for his police tags; he was doing at least 80 mph all the way back to Manhattan. He pulled into the precinct parking lot at 6:30 am and went straight upstairs to the crib. He collapsed on a bunk without even taking off his coat.

When the captain arrived an hour later, he was surprised to see Elliot's truck in the parking lot. He went into the squad room and saw keys sitting on his side of the desk. Puzzled, Don headed upstairs, wondering if Elliot had gone home the night before.

He had tried calling him several times about the scene, and had gotten no answer.

He opened the door to the locker room and immediately saw Elliot sprawled on a lower bunk, completely knocked out. He was wearing his coat. Backing out, Cragen closed the door quietly and went back downstairs.

Olivia walked into the squad room at 8:45 and stopped dead in her tracks. She burst into a fit of giggles when she saw Munch standing beside his locker. He looked like something straight out of "Happy Days". He was wearing a black bomber jacket and his hair was gelled over.

He looked up when he heard her laughter and glared at her. She tried to say something, but ended up failing miserably as she burst out laughing again.

Fin walked in then and stopped as well. He looked at his partner like he had grown a third head.

Munch looked at him defensively. "What?" he asked.

He just shook his head, wearing a bewildered expression. "Dude…you have watched _Grease _**way** too many times."

Fin looked completely comfortable. He was wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and a Sean John sweatshirt underneath an enormous FuBu jacket. On his feet were loosely tied Timberland boots.

"Oh…and who are you trying to look like?" Munch asked, looking at his partner's attire. "Snoop Dogg?"

"That's enough, you guys," Cragen interrupted them. He came out of his office. "Get focused…_now_"

"Olivia." She looked at him when he said her name. "Go wake Elliot up….we need to get moving."

She looked at him in surprise, having no idea her partner was even there. Cragen jerked his head toward the second floor. Raising her eyebrows, she headed for the stairs.

Turning on the light, Olivia walked over to the bunk where her partner lay sleeping. She reached out and gently laid a hand on his back. "Hey," she said softly, rubbing up and down forcefully.

Elliot jumped out of sleep, whipping around in surprise. He looked blearily up at Olivia. "What-?" He groaned as his focus became clearer. "What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"Quarter after nine," she answered, moving back so that he could sit up.

He groaned again. "Fuck," he mumbled, forcing himself up. He swung his legs over the side of the bunk and rested his arms on his knees as he dropped his head wearily in his hands.

Olivia watched him. "Did you go home last night?" she asked.

He shook his head, still covering his face. "No," he said. He paused. "Lizzie had a fever of 104 and Kathy took her to the emergency room."

He felt his face heat up involuntarily. He felt even worse about the lie when he heard her gasp. "Is she alright?"

Elliot winced behind his hands. "Yeah," he mumbled. "They sent her home at about 6 this morning. I was with her all night and didn't get a chance to go home…figured I could catch a little sleep up here."

"Good," she said. She turned toward the door and called over her shoulder, "Better get a move on. Cragen's anxious to get on this assignment."

He stood up and stretched, stepping into the bathroom. Running the sink, he brushed his teeth quickly and splashed water on his face. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and wrinkled his nose. _God…I look like a heathen._

Taking the stairs two at a time, he bounded down into the squad room. Cragen eyed him in disapproval, and it took Elliot a minute to remember what he was wearing. Then he noticed the other two, and started to laugh.

"Don't start, Stabler," Cragen said sharply, and his tone meant business. For the first time, he noticed there were three unfamiliar men standing near the captain.

"These are Detectives Andrews, Payne, and Marino from Narcotics," Don said, gesturing to them. "We're borrowing them to help set this up. This is Elliot Stabler….he's our inside man."

One came toward Elliot while the others went to Munch and Fin. "You three are going to be wired to each other as well as to all of the surveillance teams," the one near Elliot said. He instructed Elliot to lift his shirt and started taping the device to the side of his stomach. "There will be four teams covering each of the alleys surrounding the bar. Captain Cragen and Detective Benson will be with us in the van across the street."

He finished taping and handed Elliot an earpiece, which he put into his ear. It was small enough that, when inserted properly, was nearly invisible. After checking to be sure the earpiece wasn't noticeable, he stepped back and nodded approvingly.

"The earpiece picks up all conversation within twenty feet," he said to all three of them. "Just talk as you normally would…there's no need to be discreet. We'll be able to hear you."

The three wired detectives looked at each other. Cragen had his face set. "Alright, guys," he said firmly. "Let's do this."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

**Author's Note: **I realize that you are probably all about to throw something in frustration….please be patient. I PROMISE you that I WILL reveal the secrets soon….it will all come together, honest!

"Team one in position."

"Team two in position."

"Team three in position."

"Team four in position."

Detective Mark Marino picked up the radio attached to the dashboard of the van after the last one had finished reporting. "Copy that, everyone," he said. "Target is in team five's perimeter and heading south."

Olivia watched the detective in admiration. She had to hand it to him…these Narcotics guys knew how to put together a covert operation. Marino was in charge, and it seemed like he had thought of everything.

Five large closed-circuit televisions were mounted in the roomy interior of the van they were sitting in, and gave them visibility from every team's position. She was sitting between Cragen and a detective named Daniels, her eyes trained on the TV in the middle…the one that was following Elliot's every move.

Elliot strolled down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. He had his head slightly bent and walked briskly, avoiding direct eye contact of the people around him doing the same thing he was. He drew no glances from anyone passing by. His purpose was to blend in with the stream of city commuters, and he looked to be succeeding.

He spotted the green van out of the corner of his eye. It was sandwiched between a Honda and a Lexus in front of a pizza joint. It had "Mike's Mosquito Control" plastered on the side in neon yellow letters, and it too drew no glances.

"Test one."

He heard Olivia's voice in his ear suddenly. "Got you, Liv," he confirmed.

"Test two."

"Loud and clear, Benson," came Munch's voice.

Elliot's face cracked into a grin as he passed Munch, who was leaning up against the side of a building. He kept his face down, but he knew his friend had seen him.

"Nice jacket, Fonzie," he muttered with a laugh, his steps never slowing.

"Bite me, Elliot," came the reply.

Olivia bit her lip at the exchange to keep from giggling. Cragen just rolled his eyes at the immaturity of his team.

Continuing down the street, Elliot came to an intersection and turned the corner where The Matador was. A group of thugs was standing near the corner, and he was amused to see Fin in the middle of them.

"Hey, hey….keep walking, white boy!" Fin yelled out when he saw Elliot pause.

As the other men around him laughed and tossed out jeers of their own, Fin met Elliot's eyes as he raised his head quickly. It happened too fast for the others to notice. Fin saw the laughter glittering in the blue eyes as he ducked his head back down and continued on his way.

"You just wait till this is over," he heard Elliot mumble good-naturedly. A minute later, his partner came in as well.

"White boy?" Munch asked incredulously. "That seems a little tame for such a big, bad thug like you, Tutuola."

Inside the van, Detective Marino looked at Cragen with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin.

Don shook his head. "I lay no claim on the three stooges, Mark," he said dryly. "They've been that way since I've known them."

Mark chuckled. "Lucky you have one who has her head on straight." He jerked his head toward Olivia. "Someone has to keep the kids under control."

She choked on a laugh, and Cragen shook his head again. "Don't let appearances fool you," he said. He glared playfully at her. "She's the worst one out of all of them…she and Stabler have been known to fight like two year-olds."

The radio crackled, startling them. "Target is now in team three's perimeter." It quickly snapped them back to focus.

Elliot stepped into the doorway of the entrance. He glanced at the large sign that said CLOSED and tugged on the door handle. Rattling came from the top of the iron door, and he looked up to see chains wrapped around the slim bars at the top.

"Anyone got a key?" he asked wryly.

Marino took hold of the radio. "Go around back," he instructed. "There's a fire escape that's unlocked. Place is empty at this hour of the morning."

Sighing, he walked down the sidewalk toward the rear of the building. _I knew that would be too easy._ He stepped into the deserted alley and began looking for the fire escape. Dumpsters and crates littered the area. After a minute, he finally found the black door embedded in the brick.

When he tugged on the door handle, nothing happened. Furrowing his brow, he gripped the rusty handle and pulled harder. Still nothing.

"Umm…" Stepping back, he looked around. "Ok….want me to climb up the wall?"

Olivia looked at Marino in confusion as they were watching. He too looked confused, and it was evident in his tone when he keyed in to Elliot. "Huh….that's odd," he said. "I could swear that door was unlocked when we checked it this morning." He looked over to Cragen. Clearly, this was not a part of the plan, and they weren't prepared.

Eying the door suspiciously, Elliot went back up to it. Planting his feet, he got a firm grip on the handle and jerked upward hard.

The door squeaked loudly as it flew opened. He was knocked off balance with the force and was sent crashing onto his back.

_Damn it!_ He could hear the muffled laughter of the surveillance team in his earpiece, and his face flushed as he quickly got to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Olivia asked, trying to mask her giggles.

He huffed and dusted himself off quickly. "Fine," he said brusquely. Squaring his shoulders he announced, "Got the door open."

He was blinded momentarily as he stepped out of the bright morning sunlight and into the dark bar. After his eyes had adjusted, he looked around. The place had definitely seen better days. The walls were stained several different colors, and the floor was littered with trash. The barstools were placed upside down on top of the bar, as were the chairs around each of the round tables.

"How's it look?" Elliot jumped as Olivia's voice boomed in his ear, nearly deafening him.

"Geez!" he said reaching for his ear. "Easy on the volume, would ya?"

Surprised, she looked down and saw that she was leaning against the control panel. She jumped back quickly and lowered the volume switch.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

Shaking his head, Elliot continued looking around. "No one inside," he said. At that moment, a rat scuttled across the bar top. He eyed it warily. "Well…no humans, at least."

"Alright, Elliot," Cragen said. "Come on out. Head toward 39th street."

He heard the command in the captain's voice and wisely didn't say anything. He stepped back outside and closed the door behind him, starting back around to the front of the building.

"Elliot, watch your back," Olivia said suddenly. Her eyes were on the last monitor. "Two guys coming up behind you."

He looked behind him with his eyes and slowed his pace. The two men continued following him and one of them yelled out, "Hey!"

He stopped and turned to face them, immediately profiling them. One white, 5'8", eyes menacing; the other black, 6'2", and muscular.

"What you doing in that bar, dude?" the black one sneered. He looked to be just dying for a fight.

Elliot clenched his jaw. "What's it to you?" he spat out. In the van, his colleagues were holding their breaths.

The man stepped up in Elliot's face. "Maybe you didn't hear me," he drawled. His white companion moved up as well. "That's our turf."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Not anymore," he said.

The white man glared at him. "What you say?" he sneered.

"I said 'not anymore'," Elliot repeated. "I'm now the owner, and that makes it MY turf now."

The man was silent for a minute. "You lookin' for a problem?" the man hissed finally.

Elliot never flinched. "No, but I can sure as hell deal with one."

They stood toe-to-toe, glaring at each other. The team closest to their position had their hands on the doorknobs of their car, ready to step in.

The black man suddenly backed down. "J, he's cool," he said to the white man.

"Sweet," the white man said.

Elliot looked at them, confused.

"We sort of watch out for the place ever since someone popped Morton," the black man explained. "We're like…unofficial bouncers, if you catch my drift."

He nodded, relaxing marginally.

"So who are ya?" the white guy asked.

Elliot froze momentarily in surprise, but quickly recovered. "Ah…Jack," he stammered. "Jack Tanner."

"These guys could be potentials," Olivia said to the captain. He nodded in agreement and keyed the mike.

"Drop it," Elliot heard in his ear.

He fumbled in his pocket and slipped his cell phone out, pretending to drop it. He startled and reached down for it, dropping the small package of "coke"-crushed up Sweet and Low mixed with talcum powder- that he had in his jacket pocket. The men looked at it, then at Elliot.

He gave them a sheepish smile and chuckled. "Sorry," he said, stooping and picking it up.

The white man looked around quickly before opening his own jacket to reveal his own package.

"So…we and Morton had kind of an "agreement," he said. "We worked for him and he never had to use cash to pay us."

The two of them were looking at him eagerly now, and Elliot almost laughed at the expressions on their faces.

"Are you…um…are you saying you want to be my bouncers?" he asked in amusement.

They nodded. "No offense man, but you look easy."

He looked at them, genuinely perplexed. "I'm sorry?"

The black man shrugged. "We can make sure no one messes with the place."

He nodded. "Hey, that sounds good," he said. "I'm new around here. Wouldn't hurt to have someone watching my back." He nodded again. "Come back tonight and we'll work out a payment plan."

"Sweet, man," the white man said, excitedly. He knocked Elliot's fist. "We'll take care of ya."

They walked off and Elliot turned, going in the opposite direction. He didn't look up when the van passed him and turned into a nearby parking garage. He kept walking, past the garage, and then doubled back once he was sure no one was watching.

He grinned as he stepped inside and flopped down beside Olivia. "And the award for best undercover detective goes to….?" he teased.

"Fonzie," he heard Fin say, and he laughed out loud, forgetting he still had the wire in place.

"Alright, boneheads," Cragen said. "Munch, Fin….head for one of the teams nearby. Everyone meet back at the house. We have some planning we need to do."

They all arrived at the precinct within a half hour. Ten other Narcotics detectives had joined the original three.

"Fin!" one of them said. "What's up, man?"

"Z…my man!" he answered, knocking fists with the detective. "Never thought we'd be working together again."

Z smiled wryly. "Yeah….lucky us," he teased.

"I feel your pain, brother," Munch piped in.

Fin glared at him. "Don't get me started, man…."

While the others were chatting, Elliot plopped down at his desk with a sigh and wearily scrubbed his eyes. The adrenaline rush had faded fast and he was now reminded of how little sleep he had gotten.

"Okay, you guys," Cragen said. He had been speaking to Marino and was now standing next to him in the center of the room. "Let's focus."

They all turned their heads expectantly towards him, having found places to lean against or sit.

"We have two potential dealers that we know of already," he said. "Did they mention to you what they were doing in the alley, Elliot?"

He didn't answer, and Cragen narrowed his eyes. "Elliot."

The other officers swiveled around towards him. Elliot had his elbows folded on top of his desk and his head was buried into them. He didn't respond.

Olivia poked him in the side, and he jerked quickly. "Yeah…oh," he said sleepily. He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry….what?"

Cragen sighed impatiently and moved on. "Did you guys get anything where you were?" he asked, gesturing to Munch and Fin.

"Nothing on my end," Munch answered.

"I hooked up with a few low-end dealers," Fin said. "Mostly petty stuff, though…none of them knew Antonio Morton."

The captain nodded. "Alright," he said. "Marino….what's your take on this? What do you suggest?"

Mark folded his arms loosely across his chest. "From what we've seen in our time with Morton, the bar usually doesn't start picking up until around 1:30 in the morning," he said. "Until then, it's mostly office workers having martinis and stuff like that. The wild crowd tends to wait until the 9 to 5 workers have gone to bed before coming out."

Detective Jeff Andrews picked up when he paused. "Word had gotten around about Morton's death," he said. "People haven't really been all that into coming out lately…they're all freaked out." He turned toward Elliot and addressed him. "You're going to have to make the place look appealing…entice them about the goods inside, but don't make it obvious."

Elliot nodded.

"Now, most of the dealers that we've been tracking don't come in through the front door," he continued. "It's all very professional…they go around back one at a time and someone lets them through the fire escape. There's a lookout on the corner who watches for cops."

"How do you guys go unnoticed by the lookout?" Olivia interjected. "I would think you'd be easy to spot." She paused after finishing her sentence and added quickly, "No offense."

Marino smiled. "None taken," he assured her. "Those closed circuit televisions we have are a god-send. We have a tech guy who hooked us up with cameras that are attached to the dumpsters around the fire escape. We see every person who comes in and out."

"But there's no cameras inside," Elliot said suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Seems kind of like you're doing all that work for nothing."

Mark turned to Elliot and pinned him with a hard stare. "We tried the cameras inside routine before, Detective," he said frostily. "Fourteen years ago. Harris snitched on us before we had a chance to get inside."

"Yeah…I remember that, thanks," Elliot said sarcastically. He shook his head and looked at Cragen. "Look, why are we doing this? These guys haven't been caught in fourteen years…why should this time suddenly produce a miraculous take-down?"

Marino cut in before Cragen could reply. "It's not for lack of trying, you know," he snapped. "Every time we've gotten close, someone has picked up and moved everything."

"So you're recruiting us to help erase your mistakes?" Elliot countered. He stared intensely at the Narcotics detective. "What's the matter, Marino? You need one more case in order to make Captain?"

Olivia sucked in a breath. Marino's eyes blazed as he stepped closer to the desk where her partner sat, and Elliot responded by getting to his feet. The challenge in both of their postures was clear.

"You bastard," Marino spat out. "How dare you-"

"Cut it out, both of you," Cragen snapped angrily, stepping in between them. "One more word from either of you guys and you're asses with both be taken off this case."

The Narcotics detective set his jaw tensely and backed away without another word, glaring at Elliot.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, and Don turned a fierce glare on him when it looked like he would say something. His face tightened in anger, but he shook his head angrily and looked away.

The others in the room had gone silent, tensely waiting to see what would happen next.

Don continued to glare at both of them a moment longer before turning back to the rest of the group. "Let's get a plan together," he said. "We've got five hours to work with."

Elliot sighed as the others got to their feet and quickly assembled together over Munch and Fin's desk.

An arm planted itself on his chest, stopping him. Cragen looked at him sternly. "Upstairs, now," he said. "I don't want to see you again until you have at least four hours of sleep."

"Captain," he protested irritably. His gaze landed on Olivia, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. She smiled sheepishly, giving herself away.

Sighing, Elliot turned around and trudged sullenly up the stairs.

"_Pack it up, boys," Captain Harris said, after the last druggie had been arrested. "Let's call it a night."_

_The officers began heading for the stairs. "Shit…hey, Craig," Elliot called to his partner, as they emerged into the cool night air. "Hold up a second, ok? I dropped my cell phone upstairs."_

_Officer Craig James unlocked the door of his Toyota Tundra. "Hurry up, Stabler," he called. "I'm freezing my balls off."_

"_You have to **have** balls first, James," he cracked as he started jogging back toward the building._

_Elliot went back inside the warehouse and headed for the second floor. _

_When he opened the door to the room they had just vacated, he immediately saw his phone lying on the floor. Shaking his head, he picked it up and started for the stairs again._

_Voices at the end of the hall stopped him with one foot on the top of the landing. He turned around, reaching for his gun. _

'_Damn…did we miss some of them?' he thought in confusion._

_He pulled his radio from his hip and began walking slowly toward the sounds. "Craig," he hissed into it. "Get backup upstairs…there's some more up here."_

"_Copy that, Elliot," came his partner's reply. "On my way."_

_Sidling up to the door, he recognized the voice of the infamous drug lord, Tony Morton. He tightened his grip on his gun and flung the door open, bolting inside._

"_Freeze, Morton!" he shouted, aiming at him._

_However, it was Elliot who froze. He stared in shock at the scene before him. Morton was sitting at a table with a bag full of cocaine in front of him, and Captain Harris was getting ready to hand him another bag._

"_Shit!" Morton cried, jumping up. The drugs fell to the floor._

_Elliot looked at Captain Harris dumbly, still trying to make his brain process what he was seeing. How could the man betray them like this? _

_The captain locked gazes with him, staring him directly in the eyes. Then, without warning, he whipped out his pistol and fired. _

"No!" Elliot screamed, bolting upright. He looked down and frantically felt for the bullet hole. His heart pounded against his chest, and his fingers shook as he groped the material of his t-shirt.

His senses caught up a moment later, and made him remember where he was. Swallowing hard, he ran a hand over his face, surprised to find it soaked in sweat. Looking down, he saw that his shirt was also soaked.

Looking up, he saw the time and decided against trying to go back to sleep. He peeled off the sticky t-shirt and tossed it on the floor, getting to his feet. He headed for the shower.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

He came down the stairs as Fin was on his way up.

"Oh, cool," Fin said. "Cap was just sending me to come get you."

Elliot smiled wryly as Fin changed directions, and followed him down.

Cragen looked up when Elliot joined the rest of them, but didn't comment. A suitcase was placed on he and Olivia's desk, and his eyes widened when he saw the large quantity of white powder inside.

His eyes shot to Cragen's. "Is this-?"

"It's real," Marino cut in shortly. "You're going to use this to entice your two new friends."

Don noticed the way Elliot was deliberately ignoring the other detective. "It's quarter to five," he said, checking his watch.

He turned toward his four and addressed them. "I want you guys to all go home and grab a change of clothes. I don't know what direction this is going to go, but plan on crashing here tonight. Got it?"

They nodded. Don turned to Marino. "Alright," he said. "Everyone meet back here in an hour."

Elliot wiped at an imaginary spot on the bar top and fought back a groan. He had opened the bar for business at 8 pm that night. The other two weren't going to make an appearance until at least midnight, so they were busy scouring the area in search of drug dealers. At 10:15, "Jack" had yet to receive a single customer, and he was out of his mind with boredom.

"This sucks," he whined into his mike.

Olivia laughed. She and the captain were busy watching Munch and Fin through the cameras.

"Can't I go with Munch and Fin?" he pleaded. "Please?"

Cragen sighed. "Elliot," he said, annoyed. He had asked that question at least 10 times in the past two hours. "Shut up. Go clean something, the place is a dump."

Elliot looked at the wall beside him. It was stained with something he'd rather not try to identify. Wrinkling his nose, he replied, "I'll pass, thanks anyway." He went back to wiping the bar top.

"Show time."

Olivia whipped her head around to stare at the TV screen when she heard her partner's unexpected words an hour later. The others leaned in and watched as the two men from the previous day walked in.

"Yo, Tanner," the black man said.

"Hey, guys," Elliot said, throwing the rag down.

They sauntered in, looking around. The white one whistled. "Man, you better clean this place up before tonight."

"What's tonight?" he asked.

"We spread the word that you were opening," the black man said. "Expect a crowd."

They grinned at each other. Elliot decided he didn't like the way they were smiling.

"So…you said you could hook us up," he continued, getting straight to the point. "What's your price?"

"You come work for me, you can have unlimited access to my supply," he replied.

"No shit?" the black man said. He stared at Elliot hard, and Elliot stared back.

"I'm serious," he said. "But only if you agree to be full-time security…and you help me find other buyers." He could see that he had their interest.

While they were talking, the team in the van had received photos of some of the men who had had been seen in the bar on a regular basis.

"Joshua Hector and Simon Ganz," Cragen read.

Olivia pointed to the screen. "These are our guys," she said into the mike.

"Why are you so willing to get rid of it?" the black man asked suspiciously.

Elliot shrugged nonchalantly. "I have high quality stuff….but I also have a lot of it," he said. "I don't want anyone to get suspicious."

"What you got?" the black man said.

Elliot whipped out the suitcase that Narcotics had provided him with and opened it, watching the two men's eyes light up.

"Holy shit….," the white one whispered. He exchanged an excited look with his companion. "

We have a deal, gentleman?" Elliot asked.

The black man grinned. "It gets busy around midnight."

They weren't kidding. At ten to 12, the place had filled up so much that there was barely any standing room left. The speakers were blasting rock music, and Elliot had already emptied out the liquor supply twice.

The teams had become on high alert as the people began arriving. Five Narcotics officers were inside the bar along with Elliot and Fin. People were lined up halfway around the block to get into The Matador, and were becoming rowdy. Munch was in the line as well, keeping an eye on things there.

"What's it looking like out there, John?" Cragen said. He located Munch on the monitor and watched him turn his head, pretending to scan the crowd as he spoke.

"Rough bunch out here, Cap," he said. He watched two men as they started shoving each other as they neared the entrance and grimaced. "Are we sure we want to add alcohol to this mix? These guys already look half-baked to me."

Cragen rolled his eyes. "Keep an eye out," he said. "Particularly near the end of the line…it's easier for someone to sneak off toward the back."

"Got it," he replied.

Flipping a switch, Cragen switched frequencies. "Fin?" he said. "How you doing?"

"Great," came the sarcastic reply. Fin was squished up against the wall next to the bar by the throng of people inside. The man next to him had been downing shots of tequila for two straight hours and looked like he was going to collapse any second.

A sudden yell was heard a split second before a man came crashing through the crowd. Fin didn't have time to brace himself as the drunken man smashed into him. He bounced back like he had hit a spring, whereas Fin barely moved. The man's glass of beer went all over him.

A group of men standing nearby started laughing and cheering like maniacs, obviously as trashed as he was.

"Watch it, you jerk!" Fin snapped, as the man started laughing like a loon. The man just held up his glass shakily and staggered away.

"What the hell was that?" the captain asked.

Fin rolled his eyes. "Some of these guys act like they haven't had a drink since high school."

Olivia's voice came through suddenly. "How's Elliot doing?" Her concern was easy to pinpoint.

Fin looked over to the bar. Elliot was rapidly trying to get drinks to the massive amount of people lined up against the counter. Each time he poured one, two more orders were shouted at him from somewhere in the crowd.

"Just a minute!" he yelled in frustration, at one overly impatient man. He slid a shot glass over to a woman and slid her five-dollar bill over the counter in the same swift movement.

"He's got his hands full," Fin replied. "These people are ruthless."

"Have you seen any activity yet?" This was from Marino.

"Not yet," he said. "A couple of guys went upstairs a minute ago, but Payne was up there and said they were just going to the bathroom."

Marino sighed in audible frustration. Cragen glanced at him as he keyed in again. "Alright, well…just stay on alert," he said.

"Always," he replied.

"What's wrong, Mark?" Don asked, turning over towards him.

Marino shook his head. "This is turning into a frat party," he said, angrily. "It's freaking 12:30, and all we've gotten from anybody is reports of rowdy drinkers and an occasional fist fight."

"You've got to be patient," Cragen said. "It might take more than one night …maybe the dealers are wary of the place since it has a new owner now."

Marino scoffed. "Maybe the new owner just isn't measuring up to their standards," he muttered. He said it low enough so that they wouldn't hear, but Olivia caught it anyway.

"Hey, what's your problem?" she burst out suddenly, turning to face the Narcotics detective.

"Problem?" he parroted, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"What's your beef with Elliot anyway, huh?" she continued, angrily. "You've done nothing but talk shit about him since this morning."

"He's a cocky son-of-a-bitch, that's my problem," he answered. "He thinks because you made him lead on this that he knows more than we do. Hell, it's his fault we're even here in the first place."

"You guys-" Cragen began, trying to stop a fight.

"Why's that?" Olivia countered edgily, ignoring him.

"If he had done his job right, we would have caught these guys fourteen years ago," he said. "His screw-up cost us our collar."

"**His **screw-up?" she repeated incredulously. "He didn't plan on getting shot, Marino." She fixed him with a sharp glare. "I think you just want to lay the blame on him because he moved up the ranks and you didn't."

Mark directed his attention to Cragen while giving her a stony look. "You'd better reign in your detective, Captain," he said icily. "Don't forget that I'm in charge of this operation."

"Screw you!" she said. "I don't care **who** you are…nobody talks shit about my partner."

"Olivia," Cragen said sharply. He gave her a look. "Go get some fresh air. **Now."**

She swallowed hard in anger and launched herself from the chair, opening the van door and jumping out. Her feet hit the gravel and she slammed the door shut.

A tense silence followed as the rest of the team directed their attention back to the monitors and tried to pretend that they hadn't been listening. Cragen had his lips pursed together tightly, and after a minute, he turned toward Marino.

"This might be your collar, Mark," he said, his voice low and threatening. "But it's **my** detectives in there. They are the best team I've got, and I won't tolerate anyone disrespecting that."

Don looked intensely at the man as he continued. "I don't care what this is about…I'm on their side, and I'm not afraid to get involved. You do well to remember that."

Marino said nothing as he turned around and faced the monitor on the opposite end. Cragen turned around as well, and the silence resumed as everyone continued their watch.

"Hey…**hey!**"

Fin had been sweeping the crowded area around him for what seemed like the hundredth time when he suddenly heard Elliot yell. He whipped his head around quickly.

A group of men had become impatient while waiting for Elliot to get to them, and had launched themselves over behind the bar. Two of them began grabbing whatever liquor bottles were within reach.

Elliot dropped the glass he had been getting ready to hand to a man and rushed over to them. He grabbed one of them and twisted his wrist, making him howl.

"This is not a yard sale, asshole!" he growled. He snatched the bottle of Jose Cuervo from his hand. "Wait your god damned turn!"

One of the guy's buddies came up behind Elliot and shoved him roughly against the wall, bringing his fist up to deliver a blow to his face.

Before he had a chance to swing, the man suddenly flew backwards. Elliot looked behind him in surprise to see Fin flip one of the other guys over.

"Alright, break it up!" came a shout. Simon Ganz jumped up behind the bar. Elliot subdued one of the men with an arm lock and forced him still.

"I said back the fuck off!" Ganz yelled, grabbing one of them when he attempted to punch him.

Joshua Hector appeared as well. "What's going on here?" he asked.

Fin sneered at him. "Where the hell were you guys?" he said. "I thought bouncers were here to stop shit like this."

"Who are you?" Hector asked angrily.

"Who the hell cares?" Elliot burst out, before Fin could speak. "He stopped these guys from stealing all of my booze." He reached his hand out and Fin slapped it. "Thanks, man."

"No problem," he said, winking.

"Alright," Ganz said. "You guys are out of here." He and Hector began hauling the men out the back of the bar, and Fin went to help.

"Hey, come on, man!" The shouts of the thirsty patrons started up immediately once the excitement had died down. Elliot blew through his cheeks.

The night continued busily. The teams kept watching, but were starting to get droopy. It was almost 4 am, and there had been no signs of anyone using the back entrance.

"Look alive, everyone!" The sudden, urgent voice from Munch alerted them. "Just had a guy leave the line and head toward the back."

The team straightened and began looking eagerly at the monitors. "Fin, be on alert," Cragen said. "There's a possible break."

Olivia watched as a man slunk toward the back and looked around for a minute before rapping on the door of the fire escape.

"Be on your toes." The sound of Fin's voice in his ear made Elliot glance up from his frantic pouring. The black man nodded to him, and he discreetly nodded back.

The door opened and another man came out. The two exchanged words, and then one began opening his jacket.

"We got a visual," Marino said into the mike. "Everyone get ready."

Olivia eagerly leaned forward, ready to see some action finally.

A loud shrieking noise suddenly erupted around the crowded room. Elliot froze halfway through pouring a shot and looked to Fin anxiously. He just shrugged.

Fin felt himself being pushed and shoved from all directions. Quickly, he leaped behind the bar to avoid being trampled.

The team was appalled when people began suddenly streaming out of the bar into the street.

"What the hell-?" Marino sputtered. He wrenched the mike from Cragen's hand. "What's going on? Somebody talk to me, dammit!"

Elliot's voice came through, and he sounded disgusted. "Somebody pulled the fire alarm."

Olivia was stunned. "What?"

Marino scoffed in disgust. "Come on out, everyone," he said tiredly. "We're done for tonight."

The SVU team shuffled wearily back into the precinct at 5 am. Cragen told everyone to go upstairs. "That's an order," he said, and then disappeared into his own office where the cot was that none of them were supposed to know about.

The four of them went upstairs. Munch and Fin collapsed on beds immediately. Olivia brushed her teeth and got a blanket, setting it on a bottom bunk. Elliot was sitting on the end of the bed next to it, staring out the window.

"What're you doing?" she asked, lying flat.

He turned to look at her. His blue eyes sparkled in the darkness. He shrugged, speaking in a soft voice so as not to disturb the others. "I don't know….I guess I'm still keyed up from today," he said. "Can't sleep."

"Well, you should try," she advised, propping herself up on one elbow. "Tomorrow's a busy day, especially for you." She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows at him, then flopped over. "Goodnight."

"Night," he answered softly. He waited a minute. Then, after glancing around to make sure everyone else was asleep, he picked up his shoes and tiptoed out the door.

Cragen was a light sleeper by nature, especially when he wasn't in his own bed, so he was instantly alert when he heard the quiet squeak of a door above him. From his position, he could see out the side window of his office. He watched a figure creep down the stairs, and recognized it immediately despite the darkness.

Cragen looked at his watch. It was 5:30 am. He sat up in concern. He kept watching as Elliot went to his locker and removed his jacket. Then he crept out the doors. Cragen furrowed his eyebrows. What was he doing?

He debated with himself about going to see if he was alright. Finally, he decided against it, choosing instead to confront him when he returned.

Once clear of the precinct, Elliot broke into a dead sprint. The cold air sliced through his lungs as his feet pounded the pavement. The streets were all but deserted of pedestrians, making his pathway easy. He stealthily descended the small hill beside the Manhattan interstate, glanced around quickly to make sure no one was around, and pulled himself up the wall of the overpass. He felt like a teenager, sneaking around in the middle of the night to graffiti an overpass.

Dropping to the street, he continued at a jog the five miles through the neighborhoods until he reached Fairlawn Cemetery. He jumped up onto the rock that he had left in front of the iron gate and vaulted over. Taking another quick look around, he proceeded into the dark.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

An hour passed before he even realized it. Elliot didn't bother wiping the tears from his face, as there was no one around to see them. He pulled himself to his feet and stood for a moment longer, staring at the tombstone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly, his words drying up in the chilly air, and headed back toward the gate.

He was halfway over when he saw a squad car pass by. He dropped to the ground and froze. The car suddenly slammed on brakes. _Oh shit_…

He held his breath, not moving from his crouched position. The cruiser whipped around and began flashing its lights.

"NYPD, stop!" boomed a voice.

_Oh, shit!_ Elliot panicked and took off running. The cruiser gave chase, siren blaring.

Elliot ran as fast as he could, knowing he couldn't waste a second. It was dark and he was wearing black, so he knew he couldn't be identified, but if the cruiser caught up to him they would jump him. Then he'd be in a shitload of trouble. Trespassing was a serious offense, and he wasn't wearing his badge.

He darted past a dark house and made a split-second decision before hurtling clumsily over the backyard fence. He sprinted into the woods behind it and threw himself on the ground, rolling behind a stump. The cruiser screeched to a halt and two officers ran out, flashlights in hand. Elliot struggled to catch his breath, his heart hammering. He prayed fiercely for God to get him out of this mess.

The beam of light got closer, and Elliot felt sweat trickle down his back. Suddenly, a twig snapped to his left. The officers whipped around, shining the light in that direction.

"NYPD, come out with your hands up!" one officer boomed.

Sighing with relief when they moved toward the sound, he got up quickly, having no choice but to continue further into the woods.

He began running again when he felt safe the officers weren't coming in after him. He had bigger worries now. Where the hell was he? He'd never been through the woods of this area before. He couldn't see beyond what was directly in front of him. His foot suddenly got tangled in something and twisted painfully. He yelled as he wiped out face-first, landing on a pile of branches.

Elliot lay frozen in shock before getting up slowly. _Great_, he though angrily. His foot throbbed and he felt sharp pricks of pain all over his face and neck. He limped along until he finally reached the other side, sighing in relief when he recognized the street sign. He was a long way from the precinct though. He checked his watch and grimaced. Cragen was going to be _pissed_.

"Have a nice walk?"

Elliot jumped about three feet at the sharp voice that cut through the deserted stationhouse, slamming his hand against his locker. The noise echoed through the darkness. A light switched on.

Don walked up behind Elliot and waited. Elliot took a breath and turned around, a sheepish look on his face.

"Jesus, Elliot," he scolded.

The captain stepped closer to him and examined his face. When he went to move away, Don grabbed his arm and jerked him still.

"Don't move," he ordered.

Shocked, Elliot stood unresisting. The bloody cuts were dried, but still looked ugly. He shook his head and sighed in disappointment. He pointed to a chair and ordered, "Sit."

Elliot sat, still too shocked to speak. Cragen bent down and untied Elliot's shoelace, slipping it off his foot. He didn't miss the hiss that couldn't be held back. He took his foot gently in his hand and softly probed it for breaks. Finding none, he stood up and handed Elliot back his sock and shoe.

He put the sock on, but ditched the sneaker, finding it too painful. He sighed, looking up at his captain. Cragen sat down in a chair next to him.

"You went to the cemetery again, didn't you?"

Elliot nodded, looking at him meekly. Don sighed and placed a hand lightly on his knee.

"Elliot," he said softly. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

Tears built up in Elliot's eyes, but he blinked them back and looked away. Cragen felt the muscles under his hand tense up. The look of raw pain on Elliot's face was heartbreaking.

"You can't keep going like this," he continued quietly. "You've been keeping it inside for so long….son, it's going to kill you." His sentence ended desperately.

Just like that, the shield came back up. Don watched the blue eyes turn cold and his face tighten. Elliot moved away abruptly, causing the hand to drop from his knee, and rose to his feet gingerly.

"It already has," he whispered hollowly.

Cragen could only watch him limp toward the staircase and begin slowly hobbling up. His heart felt like it had just been ripped out and stomped.

It seemed like he had just closed his eyes when Don heard the alarm on his cell phone go off. Groaning, he sat up and reached to turn it off, noting the time. 10:30. He felt like his body had lead inside as he struggled to his feet. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for another 7 hours…but Marino had insisted on meeting with everyone at noon to formulate the night's plans.

He opened the door to the crib and stood for a moment, observing his sleeping "family."

John Munch, the man who had been a cop almost as long as he himself had; the man who was like his brother. It amused Don to see how different he looked without his glasses on.

There was Fin, not as close as the others but still in his heart, snoring like a tank. He chuckled. His gaze moved to the other end of the room to rest on Olivia.

Olivia…she had such a stubborn persona, always wanting to be an equal to the rest of the team. But he knew from her first day on the job that she was the breath of fresh air that they needed. She was tough when she needed to be, but her sweet nature never failed to show itself. She was the daughter he had always wanted.

Cragen sighed to himself as his gaze rested on Elliot, in a deep sleep. He and Elliot had an exhausting relationship. He was the veteran of the squad, the one who knew all of Cragen's buttons and how to push them. The man had a hot temper, didn't always think before he made a move, and always tried to be the "tough guy"; he had been written up more times than any single cop in the entire department.

But Don knew it was a protection tactic. Elliot worked very hard to make sure none of the others knew about his life outside of being a cop. Don was the only one who knew about his past. The others would be appalled if they knew the real reason why he had joined SVU. But he would never tell a soul. He had promised Elliot, and would rather lose his job than betray his trust. Of the four, Elliot Stabler was held closest to his heart.

Coming out of his thoughts, he flipped on the light. Olivia jumped awake immediately, looking around. She sat up and rubbed her face.

"Hey," Cragen said. "Rise and shine, everyone."

Groans were heard from Fin as he awoke. Munch reached for his glasses and sat up, stretching.

The captain looked at Elliot. He was on his side, facing away from him. There was no sign of movement.

"You too, Stabler," he barked. Nothing.

Munch and Fin went past him out the door.

Cragen shook his head. "Get him up," he told Olivia, and left.

Olivia rolled her eyes as she went to her partner. She shook his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly, for his benefit. She shook him again. Giving up the nice routine, she whacked him with her pillow. He startled awake, eyes popping open in shock.

She grinned. "Get up, lazybones," she said. She smiled as he rolled to face her, but it quickly became a gasp.

"Elliot, what happened to your face?" she asked.

He blinked, faltering for only a second. "Yesterday," he lied quickly. "When I fell opening the fire escape."

She nodded, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he followed her down into the bullpen.

After seven hours of exhaustion and scrutinizing, the teams were once again in place in front of the bar. Elliot glanced up as he was stocking shot glasses and was startled to see that a line had already formed outside, even though the bar didn't open for another two hours.

"Damn," Olivia heard him mutter. "I guess last night was somewhat of a success…for the bar, at least."

At 11:45, he opened the doors and admitted to mob. The scene from the night before became a distant memory…tonight's crowd seemed even more rowdy, if that was even possible.

"Hey, you guys…." Munch's voice rang in. "Same guy from yesterday just headed for the back."

Marino keyed the mike quickly. "Team four, get ready to move," he snapped.

Cragen looked at him, perplexed. "We need to nail this guy now," Marino said. "I'm sick of waiting around."

"If we move now, they'll make us," Cragen argued. "There's no telling what will happen if they feel cornered…it's too risky for the guys inside."

"Your people, my collar, Captain," Marino said, staring at him. "I say we go now." He turned back to the mike.

"Marino…this is a bad idea," he said bluntly. "I'm telling you….hold off."

The Narcotics detective eyed him warily as he spoke into the mike. He paused a minute. "Move in," he said, keeping his eyes on the captain. He replaced the mike and spoke to the others around him. "Let's go, you guys."

Olivia's eyes widened in shock as the others jumped out of the van. She looked to the captain in horror.

Don screwed his face tight in anger. "Damn it," he burst out, grabbing his gun. He hopped out of the van too, and she followed.

Munch and the other teams were on one side of the alley when they arrived.

"Police, get your hands up!" Marino shouted. The others surrounding him had their guns aimed.

The drug deal abruptly halted in mid-exchange. Seeing both ends of the alley blocked, one of the men wisely put his hands up and surrendered.

The other one looked wild-eyed, and Cragen felt a pit of nervousness in his gut.

"I repeat, put your hands **up**!" Marino yelled at him.

Glancing at them, the man suddenly threw open the fire escape door and bolted inside.

"Shit!" Cragen yelled, as they began running after him. He pulled his mike frantically. "Suspect on the run!" he shouted into it. "He's headed into the bar!"

The words shocked both Fin and Elliot, who up until then had no idea what was going on. Fin pulled his gun, receiving several frightened gasps and cries from the patrons, and looked around wildly. The Narcotics detectives were doing the same.

Elliot was reaching under the bar for his own gun when he suddenly heard a loud slamming noise. Whipping around, he saw a man fly from the hallway leading to the fire escape and head for the stairs.

He leaped quickly over the bar top and sprinted towards the staircase.

Four other men had broken away suddenly and dashed for the stairs as well, running right past Fin. He leapt through the air and tackled one of them as the other three kept going.

The teams of officers burst into the room then, looking around wildly.

"Upstairs, go!" Fin yelled, still on the ground. "I got this."

While several officers stopped to assist him, the others continued on up the stairs.

Elliot sprinted out of the stairwell and saw the man he was chasing several hundred feet ahead of him.

"Police!" he yelled. "Stop now!"

The man paid no attention. Elliot sprinted after him as he kept going, running into a room at the end of the hall.

When he got there, the man was almost out the window. Elliot dove across the room and yanked the man by the back of his shirt, hauling him back inside.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, reaching in his back pocket for his handcuffs.

"Hold it right there."

The voice behind Elliot startled him as he was getting ready to snap the handcuffs in place. He jumped and turned around.

The sight that faced him almost made him stop and rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Joshua Hector and Simon Ganz were standing in front of him, guns drawn and aimed at him. Their faces were cool and predatory.

But what made his blood freeze was the man beside them. He stared in shock into the eyes of Joshua Harris.

Harris grinned, his gun aimed at Elliot's chest. "Well, well…." he droned. "What have we here?"

He shuffled around to the side of Elliot. He stood still, wary of the other two with guns still trained on him.

"Elliot Stabler?" Harris' voice sounded sarcastically shocked. "Look at you….moved up quite a bit, haven't you?" He was looking at him with his eyes narrowed in anger.

_God…why didn't I grab my gun?_ Elliot kept his eyes on Harris as he continued to step around him. The man he had captured was still on the ground, with Elliot's foot planted on his chest to keep him from moving.

He heard the gun cock and Harris pointed it at his face. "Let him up," he said shortly.

Elliot immediately lifted his foot, and the man rolled away and got to his feet.

He kept a conscious eye out for the other two still behind him, but had his attention focused only on his ex-captain.

"You really seem to make a habit of screwing up my plans," Harris said. "You know that?"

"Why'd you turn on us, Harris?" Elliot asked. "You were a good cop."

He watched Harris' eyes blaze. "They were going to fire me!" he seethed. "Do you know what it would have done to me? I'd be living in a cardboard box right now if I hadn't done this."

"There are other ways to get money, Harris," Elliot said, his voice tinged with disdain. "You didn't have to turn to drugs."

"Shut up!" he yelled, and Elliot recoiled. It wasn't a good idea to piss of someone holding a Glock six inches from your face.

Hearing voices, the officers ran for the end of the hall. Cragen's heart plummeted when he saw the three men inside with their guns pointed at Elliot.

"Drop your weapons!" he shouted, as they burst inside. They all had their guns out toward the three men.

Hector and Ganz shot their heads around in surprise, as did Elliot. Using it to his advantage, Harris dove forward and grabbed Elliot, jerking him around. Before he could react, Harris had his arm wrapped around his throat and his gun jammed underneath his chin. His other arm snaked around and pinned Elliot's hands together, making it impossible for him to move.

Olivia felt her heart leap into her mouth. The other officers immediately turned their aim to Harris.

"I'll kill him," he said. He began shuffling towards the door, pulling Elliot along with him. "Drop your fucking guns now."

When no one moved, Harris tightened his arm around Elliot's throat, causing him to involuntarily choke as pressure was put on his windpipe. He jumped when Harris cocked the gun and pressed it harder into his flesh.

"Did it sound like I was kidding?" he yelled wildly. "Do it now!"

Olivia tore her gaze from Harris to Elliot, and was surprised to see him looking right back at her. His eyes were full of the fear that he was refusing to let himself show on the outside.

Without a second thought, she tossed her gun to the ground.

The others around her were startled, and looked at her momentarily. She had her gaze firmly set on Harris, her jaw clenched. The anxiety on her face was easily readable. Cragen was next, followed by Munch and then Fin.

Don looked at the other officers around him and snarled, "Do what he says, god damn it!"

Elliot watched anxiously as the guns were dropped, his heart beat pounding in his ears. He was trying to get enough leverage to twist his hands out of Harris' grip, but the hold was as solid as cast iron. He locked gazes with Olivia again, and the reassurance he saw in her eyes eased his mind a little.

He stumbled as Harris moved again, dragging him around the swarm of detectives in the doorway. Hector, Ganz, and the fourth man moved up behind them, taking aim at the officers.

Cragen's stomach was somersaulting. There were sixteen disarmed police officers, four gunmen, and one hostage all within ten feet of the doorway. If any of the detectives tried to make a move, someone would get shot by the three backing up Harris.

But if they remained where they were, Harris would escape….and would most likely take Elliot with him. He knew that as long as he had the detective as a hostage, the police were at his mercy. They wouldn't take a chance when a fellow officer's life was at stake.

Harris had continued around and now he was in the doorway. He was facing them and had Elliot in front of him like a shield. The look in Elliot's eyes twisted Olivia's insides…he now looked to be in total panic.

Elliot felt the muscles in his jaw quivering from clenching so hard. He had to do something…_anything. _If Harris took him out that door, he was going to end up dead.

"That's right," Harris sneered, as he began pulling Elliot out the door. "Stay where you are….nobody moves." He gestured to the other three, and they began moving toward the door as well.

"Get ready." Elliot jumped when he heard Munch's voice hiss in his ear, and he suddenly realized they were all still wearing their wires.

His eyes shot to his friend. Munch nodded ever so slightly at him, and his eyes swept side to side quickly before jerking back to him again. Elliot's eyebrows briefly shot up to indicate he understood.

Fin had also heard the words, and was poised to strike.

"**Go!**"

The loud yell from Munch startled the gunmen, as well as a number of police officers. He and Fin shot forward and tackled the two closest to them, which made the third lose his balance and fall as well.

As soon as they moved, Elliot took advantage of Harris' surprise and threw his head back hard, slamming it into the man's face. He yelped and loosened his grip, allowing Elliot to jump away quickly. He was taken down in seconds by a swarm of officers.

Munch, Fin, and three Narcotics detectives subdued the four men and led them outside. The other officers picked up their guns hesitantly and then stood awkwardly. Elliot stood off to the side with his back to the others. He had his hands shoved through his hair and clenched tightly behind his head.

Olivia took a step toward him, but stopped when he moved away from her. Tension and anger radiated dangerously around him. Biting her lip, she remained where she was.

Marino exhaled a breath and looked around him. He shook his head. "Wrap it up, guys," he said, his voice tired and defeated. "We're done."

Squad cars had arrived by the time they all got downstairs. The bar had been emptied out by the police and turned into an official crime scene.

"Head back to the house, guys," Marino said to the Narcotics detectives. "Go get some sleep."

He turned around and headed to where Cragen was standing beside one of the squad cars, talking to Munch. He cleared his throat when he approached to alert them of his presence. They both turned around.

Munch got the hint and moved off quickly. The two men stood staring at each other until Marino broke his gaze away.

"I'm sorry," he finally said awkwardly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and raised his gaze back up to the older man. "You were right…we should have waited."

Cragen looked at him stonily. "You almost cost Elliot his life, Marino," he said quietly. "No matter what you say, I won't be able to just brush that aside." He bit the inside of his cheek and started to walk around him, but stopped. "Just tell me one thing."

Mark looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Don clenched his jaw and hissed, "Was it worth the risk?"

He had no reply.

Elliot stood against the back of an empty squad car that was furthest away from where the others were gathered. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists, willing them to stop shaking. Movement caught his eye, and he turned his head to see Olivia walking over to him.

He turned around and began walking briskly in the other direction. She would inevitably want to talk to him about what had happened, most likely to offer him a little bit of comfort. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture, but right now every neuron in his body was screaming with rage.

"Elliot," Olivia said, as she approached him. She was surprised to see him turn and begin walking away from her. "Elliot!"

She began jogging to close the distance between them, and reached out a hand to grip his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly.

He startled her when he jerked away roughly and turned around fast to crowd her personal space. She stopped abruptly, and reflexively took a step back. The fury in his eyes was unmistakable.

"What do you want?" he asked harshly.

It was the biting tone rather than the words that pierced her heart. "Are you ok?"

He scoffed and let out a humorless laugh. "Sure, Olivia," he said, his voice condescending and dry. "I'm just perfect."

"Listen, Elliot…" She hesitated a minute. "It's ok to be scared. I would have been-"

"I'm not in the mood for any shrinking bullshit," he snapped. "Especially not from you. Just…**back** off."

Olivia was about a second away from walking away. Elliot had a tendency to act like a jackass when his temper flared, and right now it looked like it was just waiting for the spark to ignite. But she bit her lip and forced herself to ignore his anger. She knew that deep down the situation had scared the hell out of him…and he was using anger as a front to escape.

"Fine," she said shortly. "If you want to talk, you know where to find me." She turned on her heel and began walking back in the other direction.

"Of **course** I know."

His jeering words floated past her and made her stop. When she turned around, her partner was looking at her differently than he had been before. His anger was now gone. In its place was a more dangerous emotion…challenge. The second front in the cycle of protection tactics.

Elliot saw the look in Olivia's eyes change. She was now looking at him like she would a perp…with her guard up and her claws out. He knew right away that he needed to shut his mouth before he said something he would regret. But his tongue was running away before he could catch up.

"I always know where to find you, Olivia," he sneered. "The whole squad knows…poor little Olivia with the screwed up life. No one else's problems are half as bad as yours, right?"

Fire exploded in her eyes as she stalked back up to him. "You _bastard_," she hissed. She slammed her hands against his chest with enough force to knock him back a step. Her voice quivered. "Fuck you, Elliot. Fuck you and fuck trying to help you out…I'm done. You want to be an ass? That's just fine…as far as I'm concerned you can stay miserable and alone for the rest of your god damned life."

She swallowed hard and turned away again. But her anger bubbled over, refusing to let go, and she turned around once again and strode up into his face.

"You want to know something?" she hissed at him, staring right into his eyes. "I've always wondered how Kathy did it…how could anyone last twenty years with someone like you?"

The fierceness in his eyes changed to hurt in an instant, and she whipped around quickly. Tears spilled out and she sobbed as she walked briskly back toward the squad cars. In a moment of desperation, they had each used personal daggers on the person they cared the most about.

Elliot felt tears slipping from his eyes as he watched her walk away. He couldn't believe he had said that to her…..he couldn't believe she had said that to him. He had to apologize to her. The thought of losing the best friend he had in the world was too frightening to even contemplate.

His chest tightened suddenly, and his hands started to tremble again, for an entirely different reason this time. He wanted to move toward her, but his body was frozen. It felt like he was paralyzed. Images of the past began flying past his eyes…

_His entire body heaved with anger as he stood in the middle of the room. "Leave me alone!" he yelled. "I don't ever want to see you again!"_

"_You don't mean that." Her voice was gentle and yet condescending at the same time._

"_I do mean it!" he screamed. "I never want to see you again!"_

He started choking on his sobs as the memory replayed itself in his head. He tried to draw a breath and panicked when he couldn't.

Don looked up in alarm when he heard the shouting from the far end of the parking lot. Olivia went flying at Elliot and pushed him backwards. A minute later, she began storming back towards them. He could see her chest heaving as she walked.

"What in the hell-?" he said in concern.

Olivia barreled past him, her face soaked with tears.

"Olivia," he said frantically, reaching out to lightly grab her arm. "What happened? Where are you going?"

She shook her arm loose and kept up her rapid pace. "Home," she sobbed, halfway running toward the sidewalk.

His eyebrows furrowed deeply as he watched her disappear from sight. He turned and looked back in time to see Elliot break into a run in the opposite direction.

"Elliot!" he yelled. His voice echoed and dried up as his form also disappeared.

Olivia threw some money at the cab driver, who probably thought she was drunk, crazy, or both, and flew into her building. She burst into her apartment and closed the door behind her. Leaning up against it, she sobbed so hard she almost gagged.

Elliot took the subway back to Queens. He arrived back to his apartment and went straight for his bedroom. Throwing himself on the floor, he reached under his bed and pulled out the tub. He was sobbing as he opened it and began rifling through it.

The combination of the day's events and the memories in his mind suddenly exploded together. He began seeing Olivia's face in the crime scene photos and the faces from the past in his thoughts of Olivia.

His stomach heaved and he suddenly began vomiting right there on the floor. A sharp, agonizing pain stabbed his stomach and he cried out, hunching over.

"Oh my God," he gasped. He became terrified when he couldn't breathe. "Oh my god."

He somehow managed to get to his knees. His entire body began to shake violently as he dragged himself into the bathroom, vomiting all the way. Dizzily, he leaned against the toilet and kept heaving into it.

It wouldn't stop. He was shaking so hard that he could hardly keep himself upright. His chest and throat were searing as he retched violently. Looking down, he saw that the toilet was now filled with red.

Terrified, he reached a hand up to his face. Pulling it back from his mouth, he saw blood on his fingers.

His hands fumbled frantically for his cell phone, having only one thought.

Olivia had taken a long shower to calm herself down and was now lying in bed, unable to sleep. What he had said hurt…but she knew that he was just lashing out from his extreme distress over what had happened to him. How many times had she done the same thing? Her face flushed. God…what she had said to him…. She closed her eyes in shame.

Elliot could be a jerk sometimes. She could be a bitch when she wanted to be. Each could cause enough damage on their own. Putting both together at one time was disaster…they had been lucky enough to avoid this before, but it was bound to happen sometime.

Now, they had to choose: do they let a blow up destroy the friendship that had become so sacred, or do they let the friendship destroy the blow up?

Fuck pride. If she had to be the first to crack in order to keep him with her, she'd do it. She refused to lose her best friend over a bad temper. Rolling over, she turned on the light and reached for the phone.

She jumped in surprise as it rang when her hand rested on it. She picked it up. "Hello?

"Olivia…" The hysterical voice made her hair stand on end.

"Elliot?" she said, shooting up. "What's wrong?"

Elliot gripped the phone tightly in his hand and slumped against the toilet, sobbing.

"I need help," he choked out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

**Author's Note: **I feel I must inform you of a serious condition that I just became aware of. It may shock some of you to find out, but….I'm afraid I am a sadist. That is the only logical explanation I can think of to justify why I am having such a good time dragging this out! I am, of course, kidding….let _out_ that breath! I promise that the next chapter is going to answer all of your questions about this story. I _promise_!

Olivia grabbed her shoes and jammed them onto her feet as she pulled on the first sweatshirt her hand hit in the drawer.

"I'm on my way," she said, picking up her keys. "Elliot, I want you to listen to me. I'm going to hang up and call you back from my cell phone. Are you using your cell phone or your house phone?"

There was no answer. All she could hear was the sound of his hysterical crying in her ear. "Elliot…answer me," she said desperately. "House or cell phone?"

"Cell," he managed to choke.

"Ok." She frantically pulled her cell phone out of her purse and flipped it open. "I'm going to call you right back, ok?" No answer. "Elliot," she said, panicked. "Ok?"

"Okay," he whispered.

She squeezed her eyes shut and hung up. Her finger hit speed dial number 1 on her cell phone almost simultaneously as she raced out to the parking lot.

_Ring. Ring. Ring. _ Olivia felt her pulse quicken and tears sprang to her eyes as the sixth ring went unanswered. She pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal and willed him to answer.

The faint click of the line picking up almost made her cry out in relief. "Liv?" he whispered.

"I'm here," she said. She checked over her shoulder quickly as she merged onto the interstate. "Elliot, what's the matter? Are you hurt?"

He leaned his head against the side of the bathroom sink and gagged, groaning painfully. "Olivia….I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry about what I said to you…please, I'm so sorry."

"It's ok…it's ok," she said as reassuringly as she could. "Elliot, don't worry about it. Neither of us meant what we said."

There was a pause. "Where are you?" he asked, tearfully. "Are you almost here?"

"I'm coming, honey," she promised. "I'm about ten minutes away."

She made it in six minutes, squealing to a stop in front of his building. She jumped out of the car without bothering to turn off the ignition or shut the door.

Bolting into the building, she flew up the stairs and ran to his apartment. Twisting the doorknob hard in her hand, she was surprised to find it unlocked. She burst through it and ran through the foyer in frenzy.

"Elliot!"

Scanning the living room quickly and finding nothing, she hurried to the second level. She rushed into his bedroom and stopped in her tracks.

The room was a wreck. The bed was unmade, clothes spilled from his dresser drawers, and clutter was strewn haphazardly. A large tub peeked out from under his bed, with papers tossed all around.

There was vomit everywhere. It made a trail to the bathroom, and as her eyes followed it she finally saw her partner. He was slumped against the doorframe, and the state of him made her eyes fly wide in shock and horror.

His face was as white as a sheet except for his mouth, which had blood all over it. It dripped from his chin onto his forest green t-shirt. He was shaking so badly that his eyes were rolling back in his head. His cell phone was lying beside him.

"Oh, Jesus!" she cried.

She dialed 911 on her cell phone and screamed into it that she was a police officer and needed an ambulance now. Throwing the phone down, she dove across the room and slid to her knees beside him so fast that she could feel burns on her kneecaps.

He was seizing. Olivia's hands were shaking as she gripped his shoulders and pulled him down to lay flat on the floor. She was absolutely terrified.

"Elliot," she said in a panic. "It's ok, baby…it's going to be okay."

She was sobbing now, feeling him convulsing uncontrollably under her hands. Could he even hear her? She had seen seizures before on the job, but never this close.

It seemed an eternity before she heard footsteps bursting in downstairs. Keeping her grip firmly on Elliot, she turned her head towards the bedroom door.

"Up here!" she screamed as loud as she could.

Four paramedics came rushing in. One held a large orange supply kit.

"Ma'am, please step aside," one of them said quickly.

She hurried out of the way and watched with tears running down her face as the four men surrounded him. He had stopped the full-blown seizing, but was still twitching sporadically.

They worked rapidly and fluently. A syringe was pulled out of the kit, and Olivia grimaced when they smoothly injected it into the side of his neck.

"What are you giving him?" she asked. She was aware of the hysterics in her voice.

"It's a mix of morphine and Risperidone… an epilepsy medication," one of them said. "It takes about five minutes before the seizures will stop."

"What's wrong with him?" she asked tearfully. She looked down at Elliot, who was now lying motionless, and lost her breath. "Is he alright?"

A paramedic stood up and went over to her, looking at her worriedly. "Ma'am, you should sit down," he said, gripping her shoulders lightly.

"I'm fine!" she cried, twisting away from him. She looked at him frantically and repeated the question firmly. "Is he going to be alright?"

"He's going to be just fine," the one crouched closest to Elliot said. "It'll take a little while to get his heart rate and nerves under control….but he's not in any danger. All we can do for a seizure is wait it out until it's done."

Noticing the terrified look on her face, the one in front of her squeezed her shoulders to get her attention. "He'll be just fine, ma'am," he said reassuringly. "I promise."

Olivia gulped in a breath and nodded as frightened tears began flowing down her cheeks.

Ten minutes later, Elliot was lying in his bed propped up against three pillows. He was weak, but otherwise okay. Three of the paramedics were beside him, checking his pulse one last time as the fourth went out to the ambulance to put the supplies away.

Olivia was standing next to the bed, looking on anxiously. The one who had spoken with her before left the bedside and walked over to her.

"He's in a little bit of shock, but that's normal," he said. "We got no indications that he's epileptic…" He left the statement open, and she realized he was asking her.

"Oh," she started. "No, he's not….well, he's never said anything in the years I've known him, at least."

"I didn't think so, but I just wanted to be sure," he said. "The seizures shouldn't happen again with the injection we gave him, but I'd like someone to keep a close eye on him tonight. If for some reason he does start again, call us immediately."

She nodded. "Can you tell what caused this?" she asked. "I mean….why does a person normally have a seizure?"

"It could be a number of things," he answered. "A head wound could certainly lead to a seizure, but I didn't see one of those…."

She quickly shook her head.

"A heart condition could be a factor, stress, a traumatic event…." He trailed off and shrugged. "Or it could just be his body's way of releasing pent-up emotions. There really is no way for us to tell."

Olivia took a shaky breath. "This evening was definitely traumatic for him." He looked at her questioningly. "We're cops," she elaborated. "He's been undercover for the last two days in order for us to bust a drug ring….it turned sour and he was taken hostage."

His eyebrows shot up. "Well…yes," he stammered. "Yes, that could definitely have something to do with it."

"So there isn't anything I can really do?" she asked desperately.

The man considered. "Well, like I said, keep an eye on him," he told her. "Other than that, all you could maybe do is see if he'll talk to you about the situation to relieve some of the anxiety."

Her attention strayed to the other paramedics, who had stood up. "Ok, Elliot," one of them said. "Are you feeling alright?"

Elliot was still so shaken that he couldn't speak. He nodded wordlessly.

"Do you have any questions for us?" the medic continued gently.

He shook his head no.

"Alright, then," he said. "We're going to head out." He reached out to shake Elliot's hand, and he returned the gesture heartily. "Call us if you need to."

"Thank you," Elliot managed to say.

Olivia escorted them all downstairs and thanked them profusely before shutting the door. Once it was closed, her knees gave and she collapsed heavily against it. Tears were brimming, but she took several deep breaths to abate them.

Once she was composed, she headed back up the stairs.

When she entered his bedroom, Elliot had his head leaned back against the pillows and was staring up at the ceiling. His eyes were glassy, and from her position she could see tears rolling down his cheeks.

She stood in the doorway for a minute, debating on what to do. The tugging on her heart couldn't be ignored, however, and she crossed the room to sit on the bed beside him.

"Elliot?" she asked gently.

He turned to look at her without raising his head, and she found herself flinching at the misery in his eyes. Before Olivia even realized it, she was hugging him. Neither of them spoke, but words weren't needed at the moment. The contact was enough.

She held on to him tightly and pressed her face against his chest, letting him draw strength from her. He was shuddering.

After a few minutes, he pulled away, and she released him.

A few moments of silence passed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Hey," she chided softly, reaching for his hand and squeezing gently. "Don't apologize, Elliot. You never have to be afraid to call me…I'll always be here for you. I'm just so glad you're alright."

He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. "No," he said thickly. Tears built again. "I'm sorry…" He took a shaking breath. "Olivia, I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't- I wasn't-" His voice broke.

She reached out quickly and cupped his chin, lifting his face to meet her gaze. "Stop it," she said forcefully. "I'm not mad at you. We were both upset…I know you didn't mean what you said."

Her eyes filled with shame. "I only wish I could say the same," she said, feeling tears springing again. "I hurt you on purpose because you shocked me….I feel horrible about it. I'm so sorry I hurt you like that, Elliot." She smoothed her hand over his cheek. "Please forgive me."

His face flushed a little at the intimate touch, but he looked relieved. "I forgive you," he said. "Let's just put it behind us, ok?"

She nodded quickly and took her hand away. The hand holding hers squeezed, and he gave her a weak smile.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, drawing back a little.

Elliot swallowed hard and shrugged. "Weak," he answered. "But that's usually how I always feel after one of…." He suddenly stopped talking, his eyes reflecting panic.

She picked up on his words immediately. "You've had seizures before?" she asked in concern. "How often?"

He grimaced, wishing he could swallow something big enough to keep him from being able to speak. "Not a lot," he said. "In fact, this is the first one I've had in almost 10 years. I used to get them a lot when I was younger, though."

"Why?" she asked.

His eyes closed. He went silent for a long time. Finally he opened his eyes, and whispered painfully, "There's something I have to tell you."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

**Author's Note:** My last note was kidding….but this one is serious. Please be warned that this chapter is going to contain sensitive content and graphic descriptions. I am advising everyone to read at their own risk.

He could feel his head spinning, and he became afraid that he might start seizing again. He never remembered what it felt like during the episode, but always remembered the terror he felt before and right afterward.

Olivia had a frightened look on her face as she looked at him. "Elliot, what is it?" she whispered. He had never heard her voice sound so meek before. It sounded almost fragile.

She could feel her heart starting to hammer. He looked so terrified and so haunted at the same time that she had to fight the impulse to look away from him.

"I've never told this to anyone, Olivia," he whispered brokenly. "Not ever. Not ever."

He leaned forward and put his head down between his knees. Olivia couldn't have said anything even if she had wanted to. She just waited.

After a minute, he raised his head. When he spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless. "Remember that time that we had the psych evaluations, and I told the shrink that I fantasized about killing child molesters?"

"Ye-" The word caught in her throat, and she had to clear it before she could continue. "Yeah, of course."

She would never forget that. It had shocked the living hell out of her…but she suspected that he had been even more shocked.

"I picture my kids every time we get arrest a pedophile, Olivia," he said. "Every god damned time…even now I do. I always will." He stopped abruptly and took a huge breath. "Everyone thinks that's why I am so dedicated to this job."

Olivia saw the panic in his eyes as they darted to hers crazily. "I love my kids, Liv," he said desperately. His face twisted, and he looked terrified as his voice rose hysterically. "Jesus Christ…I love my kids so much, you have to know that. You have to know that."

She looked at him, becoming scared herself. "I know," she said in a hushed tone. She took his hand, if only to give herself more courage. "Elliot, I know."

A sob escaped his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "They aren't the reason, Olivia," he said quietly. "I still want to murder child molesters…..I still dream about it at night, so much that it makes me almost fucking orgasm. But they aren't the reason."

She gulped louder than she intended to. When she spoke, she couldn't stop her voice from shaking. "What is?"

He pulled his hand away abruptly and slid a few inches away, his gaze fixing on the wall beside the bed. He didn't look at her as he spoke, his voice flat and lifeless.

"My legal name is Elliot Stabler," he said. "But my birth certificate will always say Elliot Sanford…I was born Elliot Sanford."

Olivia found herself speechless. Of all she had been bracing herself to hear, that wasn't even a possibility.

He reached over to fumble underneath his pillow. He pulled a crinkled piece of paper out and held it out with shaking hands. Wordlessly, she reached for it.

Her breath was lost when she looked at the photograph in her hands. The young woman smiling out at her was stunningly gorgeous. Her jet black hair flowed down past her breasts, full and thick with loosely curled ends brushing her ribcage. Her skin was smooth and flawless.

The woman's eyes seemed to pierce right through the paper. The bright blue was such an intense contrast to the dark hair that it almost seemed unreal…and frightening in their familiarity.

She couldn't hold back her startled gasp at the woman's wide, stunning smile. It was too identical to be anything but. Her eyes shot up, and the look in his eyes confirmed what she was thinking.

"Her name was Elle," he said, his voice hoarse. "She was 19 years old when she gave birth….she named me after herself. She said I was her heaven."

"_No, Mommy! Not the monster!" he cried, trying to climb underneath the kitchen table. He squealed as she dove and caught him in her arms, lifting him up. His laughter rang loudly. "I'll be good…not the monster!"_

_Her smile was so wide it seemed to break her face as she looked at her seven year-old son in her arms. "Did you sneak a cookie, Elliot?" she asked, her voice threatening to break with the laughter she was trying to hold in. _

_She turned him toward racks of chocolate chip cookies that they had set there to cool. The glaringly empty spot between two of them was a dead giveaway._

_He squealed again as she held up her hands threateningly. "Did you?"_

_She knew he wouldn't lie. Her baby was an angel…whenever he did try to lie, he would feel so bad that he would always start to cry right after he said it._

"_Yes!" he said._

_She tried her best to put on a stern face. "The tickle monster says he doesn't like it when Elliot sneaks a cookie before dinner…" she droned. Her face melted into a grin in an instant when she heard his laughter. He wiggled around, but she held on tight and dug her fingers into his sides._

"_Can you breathe?" _

_He giggled hysterically, gasping for air. The fingers kept going, ruthlessly digging into his sides. _

"_Can you breathe?" she asked again, her face crinkled from laughter. She let up._

"_Do it again!" he cried gleefully. "Do it again!"_

_Her face lit up with laughter as she tickled him again. His delighted squeals floated in the air._

Tears were rolling down his face as he was speaking. He reached out and took the photo back from Olivia, cradling it as if it would shatter in his hands.

"She was so beautiful, wasn't she?" he whispered, his voice breaking.

Olivia's eyes filled with tears at the sound of his voice. "Yes," she said softly. She leaned closer to view it again. "Like a movie star."

She looked at him, scared to death now. She no longer had any idea what would be coming from his mouth. The light chuckle surprised her, and she watched him smile and wipe his tears quickly.

"A movie star," he said wistfully. He chuckled again, his face breaking into the radiant smile that matched the one in the picture. "You're right." He looked up at her, a glowing look crossing over to cover the sorrowful eyes for a moment.

"She loved flowers…I used to pick dandelions from behind the house and give them to her. They were always droopy and pathetic and brown, but she'd display them in a crystal vase on the coffee table so everyone could see them." He smiled sadly at the memory. "Every night we would sing after she tucked me in…'You Are My Sunshine'."

Olivia watched the smile leave his face then. His blue eyes clouded over. "Sometimes she would get really sad. I never knew why. I asked her one time why she had to take pills every night before bed, and she told me it was because she was sick and they would make her feel better."

She realized what he was implying then. They had seen too many schizophrenics in their job for her not to know what he meant.

"But no matter how much she was sad, she always smiled for me," he said softly.

_She sat on the edge of his bed and tenderly pulled the covers up to rest near his neck. Reaching down, she gripped his hand tightly in both of hers and kissed it lovingly._

"_I love you," she murmured, smoothing her hand over his forehead. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, letting her nose rest there. "More than anything in the entire world."_

_She seemed sad, and he wondered why. His blue eyes were puzzled, but he answered anyway. "I love you, too, Mommy."_

He bit his lip then, and Olivia watched his expression suddenly darken.

"My father's name was William," he went on. "He was a registered sex offender…had been since he was 20 years old."

Olivia's eyes flew wide in shock, and she was momentarily speechless as horror overtook her features.

As the memories played themselves out, his voice became hollow and detached. He had taught himself long ago not to feel anymore. The words seemed robotic and flowed from his mouth before he could think about them.

_He was awakened by the squeak of his bedroom door opening. Peeking out from under the covers, dread overcame him as he watched the familiar sight of the shadow cast on the wall. His father shut the door quietly behind him._

_It was midnight. Elliot knew this without ever looking at the clock…it was always midnight when he came. He felt the familiar sickness creep into his stomach as he watched his father tiptoe toward his bed. Sliding down quickly, he squeezed his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep._

_He could hear the sound of the belt becoming unbuckled as his father came closer. The shoes were slipped off, making a soft squeaking noise as William toed each one from his foot as he walked._

'_Please make him go away,' he prayed fervently. His small body began shaking. 'God, please make him go away.'_

_William's breath was heavy and slow as he approached the small twin bed. Reaching out, he grasped the comforter and lifted it. Elliot squeezed his eyes shut as the blanket was lifted off of him and the cool air hit his body. He kept still, hoping to appear asleep._

_It wouldn't make a difference. It never did, whether or not he was awake._

_He could smell the soap from his father's shower as he listened to the familiar swishing sound of jeans being slipped off. The bed springs groaned when the added weight was lifted on top._

_He held his breath and prayed desperately again. The feeling of a large hand stroking over his face made his eyes fly open, and he realized that God had been too busy again._

_The dark eyes locked with the wide blue ones, and the man smiled as he started caressing the soft cheeks of his son. Frightened tears spilled out despite his best efforts to hold them in. _

"_Be quiet, Elliot," he heard his father whisper. "You had better be quiet."_

_The warning wasn't needed; his mouth was so dry that he couldn't feel his tongue._

_He felt the large body press against his side, and he couldn't stop the whimper that escaped._

_A big hand came up to firmly cover his mouth as the other one slipped into the waistband of his pajama bottoms. The large fingers quickly pushed into his briefs and wrapped around his penis._

_The soft squeezing made him moan in pain, but he quickly choked it back, terrified when he saw his father's angry eyes. _

_William removed his hand from his mouth and brought it down to tug down the small pajama pants. They bunched at his knees. The underwear followed, and he sucked in a breath when he felt the cool air on his exposed genitals._

"_Look at me," he hissed. The threat was clear in his tone. "You had better look at me."_

_Elliot did as he said, bringing his gaze down. The large penis was erect and hard, straining for attention. He trembled so badly that he couldn't sit still. _

"_No," he whimpered, unable to help himself. "Please, Daddy. Please don't."_

_He paid no attention as he lifted his body up. "Open your mouth, Elliot," he said, his voice breaking with anticipation. His fingers were clenching the sheets, sweating with tension._

_The hands shot up suddenly and gripped at his face, pinching so hard that he cried out. "Open up your **mouth**," his father growled angrily again. _

_Elliot obeyed this time, and felt himself choke almost immediately when he shoved hard inside. It slid deep into the back of his throat, and he gagged._

_William whimpered and groaned in ecstasy, thrusting over and over. He withdrew several minutes later, and Elliot sobbed loudly. _

_William shot forward and clamped his hand over Elliot's mouth again hard. His body was drenched in sweat. Taking his other hand, he lifted his son's body up a few inches and rolled him over._

_Elliot felt his face being pressed hard into his pillow as he cried. He didn't have time to brace himself before William shoved hard into his rectum, and the cycle was repeated._

Olivia was crying silent tears. He looked at her with an agonized expression, but his eyes were bone dry.

"He raped me every night for three years," he continued woodenly. "He said if I told anyone he would kill my mother by breaking her neck. I'd seen him kill a rabbit that way once."

His eyes closed. "She found out by accident…she came into my room to shut the windows because I always left them open at night, even when it was cold." His voice dried up and he stopped speaking.

Olivia was shaking now; the sobs had crept up and taken over. But she made no sound. She couldn't look at him.

Elliot's voice became hoarse. "We left that night. She told my dad that if he ever came near us she was going to call the police. I could hear him yelling as we pulled away from the curb... 'Please don't go, please don't go'.

His chin began to tremble. "We pulled off the road about five minutes later," he whispered. "I had never seen her cry before. She was crying so hard that she was shaking." He gulped as the tears started to flow. "She hugged me so tight that I couldn't breathe….kept saying she was so sorry, so sorry."

Her voice echoed in his head. She had been hysterical. He remembered how scared he had felt when he heard her….she never cried.

Shaking his head quickly, he refocused. "We spent the night with one of her friends. The house was huge. We had our own rooms….but she came into mine and laid next to me. All night long….she was so warm…so warm."

His voice became distant. "She hugged me as she fell asleep and kept whispering that she loved me… that she would always protect me."

Elliot fell silent again, and Olivia watched him start to shake violently. Alarm surged through her and almost made her stop breathing.

"Elliot," she choked out, through her tears. "Elliot…are you alright?"

She couldn't handle it if he had another seizure. She felt as if she was going to shatter.

He didn't answer her. His head came down between his knees and he began to breathe rapidly. His words were flowing beyond his control.

"I woke up and heard screaming….when I rolled over, she wasn't next to me anymore."

"_You bitch! You bitch!" _

_He jumped when he heard his father's voice. Fear shot through him. "Mommy…" he whimpered, rolling over. She wasn't there._

_His words replayed themselves in Elliot's mind: "You keep your mouth shut, boy…if you say anything to anyone, I'm going to kill your mother. I'll snap her neck and make you watch."_

_There was a loud crash. The bedroom door flew open and his mother's friend came running in. "Elliot, get up, honey," she said frantically. "Come on."_

_She was pulling him out of bed as she spoke. He stumbled as she grabbed his hand and started running down the hall toward the back door. He wriggled around violently. "Jessie," he cried to her. "My mom…where's my mom?"_

_A loud shriek cut through the house as they were passing the kitchen._

"_Elle!" his mother's friend cried. She dropped his hand and ran into the room. _

"_Shut up, you whore!" William growled. He had her by the hair and was wrenching her head back. She clawed at him frantically with her fingernails._

"_How dare you touch my son!" she screamed hysterically. "I'm going to kill you…you son of a **bitch!"**_

_He watched Jessie fly at his father from behind and start beating on his back with her fists. His mother dropped to the ground as William turned toward the other woman._

_His mother was getting to her feet when she noticed him. Her blue eyes were wide, matching his own. "Elliot!" she cried. "Run! Run!"_

_He was frozen. She came running to him and gripped his shoulders, roughly shaking him. "Do as I say!" she screamed. "Now!"_

_A thumping made her whip her head around. William was slamming Jessie's head against the kitchen cabinets. Her body thumped to the ground when his hands fell away and didn't move._

_His mother's eyes became panicked. He felt himself being picked up and was flying through the air as she ran with him._

_Suddenly, he was on the ground. His mother was screaming as William tackled her and pinned her to the floor, and even then she was searching for her son._

"_Get out, Elliot!" she cried, half-sobbing. "Run, baby!"_

_His eyes flew wide when his father backhanded her across the face and her head snapped back. "Mommy!" he screamed, running over to them. _

_He jumped at his father, raining his small fists down on his shoulders as hard as he could. _

"_You little shit," his father growled. He reached behind him and grabbed him by the hair, yanking him roughly off of him. She screamed when William slammed him down hard on the floor._

_His head exploded with pain as he hurled against the wood. She was screaming his name frantically. "You stupid bitch!" William kept shouting. The sound of his hand slapping her kept echoing. "Motherfucking bitch!"_

_Elliot rolled over and saw his father snatch her by the hair again. She was screaming as he began to drag her back toward the kitchen._

_He forced himself to get up, and stumbled after them. He was so dizzy that he had to hold onto the wall to keep himself upright._

_William opened a drawer with one hand while keeping hold of her with the other. "I'll teach you!" he yelled over her screams. "I'll teach you and your little bastard brat!" _

_The light reflected off of the large carving knife he held in his hand. Elliot's eyes flew wide. Elle was screaming bloody murder now in a last-ditch effort and wiggling around desperately._

_He screamed when his father brought the knife down into her middle._

_There was a sickening splattering sound, and his mother's face reflected shock. Her skin became deadly pale and her eyes widened. William brought the instrument down, deeper and deeper until a cracking sound echoed in the air._

"_Mommy!" he screamed, sobbing. "Mommy!"_

_She sputtered in a breath as he withdrew the blade. Elliot's gaze was on his father, watching his eyes. They were so cold…so cold. The knife came down again, and Elliot squeezed his eyes shut._

His eyes were wide. He seemed catatonic as he shuddered over and over. "I ran out the back door and to the house across the street," he said in a choked voice. "The couple who lived there…the man was a police officer."

He gulped in a breath. "It was Cragen, Olivia. He lived across the street from my mom's friend."

She had her arms wrapped around her middle and was sobbing freely now, not even bothering to hide the sound anymore.

"_Son?" _

_Don crouched next to the young boy sitting against the wall. The police officers had tried to move him away from his mother's body, but he hadn't budged. He just sat beside the sheet-covered form silently._

"_Son," the young man tried again. "What's your name?"_

_No response. Don hesitantly reached out toward him and was startled when the boy suddenly yelled out angrily. His hand snatched back quickly._

"I stayed with him and Marge for two days and then the police took me to a home," he said. "They kept telling me that it was only for the night; that my grandmother was going to come in the morning and get me."

He shook his head. "A night turned into a week, a week turned into a year…" he said desperately. "No one came. They just left me there.

Cragen came all the time…he kept begging Social Services to let him take me. They wouldn't listen…said I had to be with a relative. It didn't matter…I didn't want to be around anyone."

He sucked in a breath. "My father went to jail when I was 12," he said. "I wasn't allowed to go to the trial…said it would be 'too traumatic'." He scoffed angrily. "I lived in that place for another six years. I joined the service the day I turned 18, so I could get out of there."

His eyes were narrowed. "The day before I went to boot camp, I went down to court and changed my name," he said. "Stabler was my grandmother's maiden name, on my mom's side…I didn't want any part of that bastard in me."

Olivia took a shuddering breath through her tears. He had seen her crying the whole time he had been speaking, but it didn't make a difference to him at the moment. He was too numb to feel anything.

"I hadn't thought about that day for almost thirty years," he said, his eyes filled with tears. "I found this picture in my closet the day you came over to help me with those boxes."

All the pieces suddenly clicked into place for her. She closed her eyes in horror and shame. All this time, she had been upset because he wasn't talking to her…and he was here with a burden like this.

She had always felt secretly spiteful of her partner….he had the perfect life that she had always wished for as a kid. Her mother was drunk all of the time and she had a rapist for a father…and he seemed to be the poster child for stability.

Tears came flowing again. At least she'd had her mother….she couldn't even fathom what it must have been like to see that kind of brutal violence, especially as a child. Her partner had spent his entire life keeping this a secret from everyone. She'd always ribbed him about his protectiveness for his kids….she'd called him "uptight" and "paranoid" more times than she could count.

_God…if I'd had any idea…_Olivia bowed her head as her shoulders shook.

"I went to see him." His words made her shoot her head up in shock, and gaze at him with tear-filled eyes. "I went to Bedford Hills the other day…I wanted to spit on that bastard."

She gulped in a breath and spoke for the first time in over an hour. "Did you?" Her voice was hoarse.

"He's dead, Liv!" His voice became hysterical. "He had a fucking _heart attack!" _

She was startled when he suddenly shot off of the bed. He paced the floor frantically, his expression heartbreaking. "Bastard died in his sleep, Olivia!" he screamed. "He died in his sleep….and she….she had to feel…."

His voice broke then, and he fell apart. Olivia watched him fall to the floor. She got to her feet and stumbled over to him. She knelt down beside him and took him into her arms.

His sobs were loud, gut-wrenching, and matched her own.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

Olivia's whole body shook as she hugged him tight, pressing her face against the top of his head. She kept trying to pull him closer even when they had no space between them, fisting his shirt frantically in her fingers. Elliot clutched her for dear life, pressing his face so hard into her abdomen that he saw spots behind his closed eyes.

She gasped in a breath, bringing her hand up to stroke his wet face. She continued the motion, over and over, trying to give herself a release from the pain she felt inside for him.

"I just stood there!" he sobbed. "She was lying there dying in front of me…and I just stood there. I just stood there!" He let out an anguished howl that made Olivia shudder.

Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to speak. Her heart was on the floor, quivering and bleeding, and she felt every sensation as much as if it had been physically ripped from her chest.

He quivered in her arms, and she rubbed her hands up and down his back. "I should have done something," he wailed painfully. "It was me he was after…God why didn't I save her?" He shook with the intensity of new sobs. "She was so perfect…so perfect."

Olivia broke away from him between sobs and bent her head close to his ear. "Elliot, it wasn't your fault," she whispered weakly, rubbing his back in almost panic. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Another loud sob escaped before she could stop it. "I'm so sorry."

The words dried up, and silence fell. They sat there, on the floor at the foot of his bed, for what seemed like hours. Both had long ago lost all feeling in their legs. But neither moved.

A sudden huge yawn invaded him in the middle of a sob. His emotions had physically sapped all of his energy, and he was left feeling violently exhausted. He moved his head to rest on her chest as the tears continued to drip down his cheeks.

She felt him reposition his face to rest against her, and moved her hands to circle his neck, rubbing and kneading in a rhythmic fashion. His sobs were no longer audible, but she could still feel each one as he cried silently. He was losing the fight to stay awake.

The time suddenly came to mind. When had she gotten his phone call? She thought back. _I got out of the shower at…God; it must have been quarter after one. I was in bed for at least twenty minutes before he called…_

Her eyes opened wide with shock as she realized that it must have been close to three in the morning. She had no way to tell, since she couldn't see the clock on his nightstand from her position on the floor. His weight was becoming heavier, and she made a decision.

"Elliot," she said soothingly. "Come on, baby."

She pushed away from him until she had enough leverage to move her legs out from under her. They dropped heavily to the floor immediately, completely numb. A soft moan escaped as she had to strain to lift each one enough to jiggle it, trying to get the blood flowing again.

Once she had enough balance, Olivia wrapped her arms around his middle. As soon as her hands moved from where she had been cradling his shoulders, his head flopped limply down against her chest. Continuing to a squatting position, she rose up, lifting him with her.

Her kneecaps popped immediately, as well as her spine. She moved quickly so that she could catch his limp form with her body. Tightening her hold on his middle, she centered her balance and stopped to take a breath.

_That wasn't as hard as I thought,_ she thought in relief.

"Why don't we get some sleep, ok?" she continued, her voice gentle.

He mumbled something in reply without lifting his head. She was soft and warm, and right now he just wanted to sleep for a year.

Chuckling softly, she gently dragged him the few feet to the edge of his bed and sat him down, leaning him back to rest against the pillows. He sank into them immediately. She lifted his legs one at a time and pulled down the comforter on the unmade bed. Once she pulled it up to cover him, she lifted herself up to sit on the edge beside him.

Elliot clutched one of the pillows in his hands and struggled to open his eyes. She winced at the swollen state of them, running a hand over his forehead.

"Stay with me?" he whispered sleepily.

Remembering the words of the paramedics, she nodded. "I'm here, sweetheart," she said softly. "I'll be here."

He nodded weakly and flipped over to rest on his side. He was fast asleep almost instantly.

She sighed softly and smoothed her hand over his hairline gently. For a minute she just sat and watched him sleep. Her own fatigue decided to make itself known then, and she pondered over the idea of where she should sleep.

If the worst were to happen and he were to lapse into another seizure, she needed to be close by…so sleeping downstairs was definitely out.

Her eyes wandered to the empty pillow on the left side of the bed. _Should I_…? She shook herself mentally, her face flushing involuntarily. Despite the fact that the relationship between them was strictly plutonic, that was out of bounds. Her morals were telling her to stay away from there.

Olivia resigned to her fate of bunking on the floor. She went to the opposite side of the bed and was reaching for the pillow when she heard Elliot whimper softly. Her hand froze were it sat lingering over the pillow, and her eyes darted to his face.

Though his body was perfectly still, his expression reflected agitation. She instantly became alert and reached behind her toward the phone, fearing the worst. His face crumbled and she saw tears begin a steady stream onto the pillow he was burying his face into.

Her heart ached for him. Drawing her hand from behind her back, she got up onto the empty side of the bed and crawled over towards him. Leaning against the headboard, she propped herself up beside him and stretched her legs out in front of her.

Her hand came down to his back and began rubbing slowly, tears slipping from her eyes as she watched him cry. The bed shifted suddenly as he turned and reached his arms out, sobbing. She wasn't entirely sure if he was awake or asleep, but it didn't make a difference to her. She would do anything to erase the look on his face.

She leaned over without hesitation and warmly embraced him, lifting him up. He clutched her tight and buried his face into her stomach. She rubbed his back, feeling him shaking from his sobs.

"It's ok," she soothed quietly. "I'm here, baby. It's ok."

He gasped in breaths, crying hard. "I miss her," he sobbed. "God…I miss her so much."

She clenched her teeth to keep a sob from escaping, but it came anyway. She wanted to take away his pain so badly, but just didn't know what to say.

"I know, sweetheart," she whispered finally, hugging him tighter. "I know you do."

Elliot pressed himself closer to her, burying his face in her neck. Exhaustion claimed him again before he realized it. A minute later he was slumped against her, sound asleep.

Olivia knew that she could have moved him, but decided to stay where she was.

When she opened her eyes again, she was face-down on the comforter. Bewildered, she blinked rapidly and raised herself up to her elbows, looking around for Elliot. She was alone.

Turning over, she looked at the clock. It was 8:30 am.

Sliding over to the edge of the bed, she lifted herself to a sitting position and stretched. As she leaned over to stretch her back muscles, she had a glimpse inside the bathroom. Elliot was on his knees on the carpet with a sponge, scrubbing.

"Hey," she said, softly, getting to her feet.

His head shot up. "Hey," he answered.

She came inside and saw that he was cleaning up the vomit from the previous night. Her first reaction was to grimace out of instinct. Bending down, she reached beside him for another sponge and some Resolve from the pile of cleaning supplies he had next to him.

He looked up again as she began heading toward the bedroom. "Liv, you don't have to…." Elliot trailed off and shrugged, returning his attention to his task.

They worked silently for a half-hour until the bedroom was spotless. The tub was lying in the same spot, and Olivia reached for it.

"Don't!" The sharp bark made her jump back in surprise. Whipping her head around, she saw Elliot stride out of the bathroom, dropping the supplies he held in his hand. "Don't touch it."

Astonished, she backed away. He dropped to his knees and shoved the papers inside hastily, slamming the lid on top and pushing the tub under the bed.

His tense expression put her on alert. "Elliot, what is that?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing!" he snapped quickly. He got to his feet quickly and strode toward the bedroom door. "Olivia, thank you for last night….but you need to go now."

"Elliot," she said, standing as well. "Look…I know you want to pretend this never happened. But you can't. You have to face it."

His hand punched the wall, making the pictures rattle. She jumped in surprise, but refused to let him intimidate her. "I know you're scared…Elliot, you have to let me help you."

"Scared?" he yelled. He turned to face her, his eyes flashing. "Scared?" She flinched as he strode up to her again. "Let me tell you something, Olivia. I'm not scared!"

As he bore holes into her unwavering gaze, she could see his lip starting to tremble. "I'm not scared!" he shouted again, his voice rising to an almost hysterical level. He gripped her shoulders and shook her. "I'm not scared!"

Though her heart was in her throat, Olivia remained still. She had faith that her partner wouldn't hurt her. She watched as the lightning in his eyes faded away and turned to horror as if he was seeing her for the first time. His hands flew away from her as if she had burned him.

Elliot backed slowly away from her, his expression panicked. His eyes went wide. "I'm terrified." His words came out in a whisper, and she watched him start to shake. She began walking toward him, her expression pained.

He collapsed to the floor before she reached him. "Sweetheart," she soothed, wrapping her arms around him. "Elliot, you've been keeping this inside for so long…you have to let yourself grieve."

She hugged him tight, running her fingers through his hair. He sobbed so hard that he couldn't breathe.

"Calm down," she said urgently, hearing him gasp for air. "Elliot, you have to calm down….take a breath."

He sobbed in a breath pathetically. "I told her I hated her," he whispered. "One time I got so mad that said I never wanted to see her again." His eyes squeezed shut. "I didn't mean it….please God! I didn't mean it!"

"Baby, she knew you didn't mean it," she said tearfully. She prodded him to look at her. When he didn't, she cupped his face. "Elliot…look at me."

His teary eyes rose to meet hers. Her face softened as she stroked his cheeks. "Your mother loved you, Elliot. She knew how much you loved her."

He shook his head. "She deserved the whole world, Olivia," he choked. "She was the kindest person God ever created…she didn't deserve the life she had. She deserved a bed of roses and a husband who treated her like the queen she was…she was barely an adult when she became a mother."

His face crumbled again, breaking her heart. "Don't you get it?" he said hysterically. "If I hadn't been born, this wouldn't have ever happened! She'd still be alive if it wasn't for me!" His shoulders shook as he dropped his face to his chest in defeat. "I killed her….I killed her."

She was so appalled at his words that she couldn't make her mouth connect with her brain enough to speak.

"I couldn't even give her the burial she deserved," he continued in a harsh whisper. "The funeral home considered her part of the 'charity plot'." He scoffed in anger. "They just stuck her under a tiny, cheap piece of wood and painted her initials on it."

Olivia was still speechless, and just continued to offer her support through her contact. He gave a heavy sigh and scrubbed at his eyes, pushing gently away from her.

"Elliot," she said softly, watching him get to his feet again. "What's in that tub?"

"Her death," he said shortly. "Crime scene photos, my statement, forensic evidence….I stole all of it from the cold case files shortly after I became a cop." He glared at her. "You want to rat me out? Go ahead. I don't care anymore."

But he was lying. She knew it. He did care. He cared so much that he had gone through the trouble of hiding it away for almost thirty years and putting a false label on it so that nobody would know.

So many things were making sense to her now, things that before she had just thought were weird quirks of his. He had been calling her "Liv" since the beginning of their partnership; she had called him "El" once early on and he had gotten very angry, asking her never to call him that again. At the time, she thought he was just offended. Now she knew why.

Her face suddenly flushed as she recalled her thoughts earlier that week about his compulsion to brush his teeth. Rape victims tended to get extremely hypersensitive about cleaning themselves, even years after an attack. She knew from personal experience…she had always wondered why her mother took so many showers every day. Was it possible that he still lived with the daily nightmare of his childhood rapes?

"Elliot," she said softly, biting her lip. "You said you never told anyone about this…does that mean that Kathy doesn't know?"

He sighed and scrubbed a hand wearily over his eyes. "Yeah," he answered tiredly. "I told her my dad died in the Vietnam War and my mom died of a stroke…she'd always ask to see pictures of me as a kid. I'd always tell her they were in the attic and I'd have to find them later."

His voice became distant and soft. "I never mentioned them to my kids at all…after a while they gave up asking me about their grandparents on my side, because I always changed the subject."

"But you told me." The amazement in her soft tone was evident.

He looked at her, his eyes bright. "You're my best friend," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Her heart swelled with emotion. Brushing the tears from her face, she stood up as well and went over to him. Standing before him, she reached down and linked both of his hands tightly in hers.

"I think we should go through the box together," she said softly.

His eyes immediately welled up and he shook his head. "No," he said gruffly. He tried to jerk his hands away, but she held tight. "No, Liv…please. It's going back to storage and it's not coming out again."

"Elliot," she said. "Does your mother deserve peace?"

He pinned her with a hard, shocked stare. "How the hell can you….of course she does, Olivia!" He wrenched his hands free roughly and looked angrily at her.

Her expression remained calm. "She won't have peace until you let her rest, Elliot," she said quietly. "Keeping this stuff will be your way of keeping her from having it…she wouldn't want you to remember her this way."

He sobbed suddenly, burying his face in his hands. Olivia cradled his face again tenderly. "Let me in," she begged. "Please…..you deserve to have peace, too."

"Why?" he sobbed. "Why, Olivia? Why do I deserve peace? I failed her….I failed her!" His body heaved. "She thought I was the fucking world….she sacrificed her life for me, and for what? To see me fucking up everything...I don't want her to see the man I am now. She doesn't deserve it!"

She held his face firmly. "The only way you are failing her is by blaming yourself for all these years, Elliot," she said. "The man you are now would still be her world."

"How do you know?" he asked bitterly, not meeting her eyes.

She pressed her forehead to his, making his eyes shoot to hers in surprise. "Because," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "You are… the best person that I've ever known."

He looked at her, tears spilling out of his eyes, and could see the love reflecting in her eyes.

She gripped his hands gently again, and he didn't resist. "Let's go through the box, Elliot," she whispered. "Come on…we'll do it together."

He sniffled wetly and slowly nodded. "Alright," he whispered hoarsely. He looked toward the bed with apprehension in his eyes. "Together."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.**

Elliot made no move toward the box, so Olivia leaned around him, sliding her hands under the bed. Her hands hit the hard plastic, and she gripped the edges to pull it out.

Once the box was in the open, she flipped the top off. She looked up and saw that Elliot's hands were shaking. Pausing, she reached over and took one of them in hers, squeezing firmly. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and he forced himself not to get up and bolt.

When he opened them, he realized she had stopped and was watching him.

"You ready?" she asked quietly.

_Fuck no!_ his brain screamed. He attempted to swallow the golf ball-sized lump in his throat and failed. He nodded curtly.

She eyed him worriedly, but continued. Reaching down into the box, she pulled out the first object that her hands hit, which happened to be a stack of photos. She took them out and set them on her lap, sliding the rubber band off.

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut as she began examining each one. The image captured on glossy paper did no justice for the actual experience….the real images would be forever engrained in his memory.

_Don grabbed his gun quickly before running out the door. Elliot dashed after him a few seconds later. Marge shouted at him to stay, but he ignored her. The cold air pierced his face as he flew off of the front stoop towards Jessie's house._

_He burst through the back door and through to the kitchen, careening right into Don. He was standing in the entryway with his gun drawn, searching the room warily. He jumped when he felt Elliot plow into him, and quickly shifted his gun aim down to avoid any accidents._

"_Go back to my house, now!" he snapped urgently._

_His eyes suddenly flew to the body of the young woman lying on the floor. He instantly turned around and grabbed Elliot by the shoulders, planting his body in front of the boy to shield him from the sight. But it did no good._

"_Mom!" he shrieked, leaping out of his hold. He jumped around him and ran into the kitchen, sliding to the floor beside her. Her long hair hung limply around her, the crystal blue eyes now glassy and unseeing. There was so much blood around her body that it flowed into the cracks in the tiled floor._

_Elliot screamed in agony, throwing himself down on top of her. The blood soaking the front of her shirt quickly seeped onto him, but he didn't feel it. He flung his arms around her middle and began shaking her._

"_Mommy!" he screamed hysterically. His voice cracked, and he started shaking. "No, mommy…wake up, please wake up!" He started sobbing and crawled on top of her, pressing his head against her chest._

_It took three officers to pry the child away from her body. He screamed and fought them every step of the way, sobbing like crazy. They finally had to capture his hands and feet and literally peel him off of her. _

Olivia felt her stomach twisting as she viewed them. Every gruesome detail was captured on film- the bloodied kitchen cabinets, a flower vase that had been smashed on the countertop, a chair flipped over next a small dining room table.

She heard in her mind the sound of Elle Sanford's desperate screams….imagined Elliot standing there watching the whole thing…tasted the fear in both of their mouths as William Sanford ravaged around them. She kept flipping through in a robotic fashion, her eyes too glassy to really see what they were.

When she got to a photograph of Elle Sanford's lifeless body, sprawled listlessly on the floor like a limp dishtowel, she felt her stomach heave. Quickly, she threw the photographs aside, not wanting to see anymore. Her eyes slid closed as she tried to erase the images from her mind.

The sound of harsh breathing beside her brought her back to reality, and her eyes snapped open. Elliot had his chin dropped heavily to his chest, his hands over his ears, and his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he rocked slightly in agitation. His breath was coming in loud, panicked gasps.

Reaching out quickly, she gripped his hands, startling his eyes open. She pulled his hands down and grasped them tightly in her own. She immediately began thinking of something to distract him enough to calm him down. The last thing he needed was another fit of seizing because of this.

"Elliot," she said frantically. "Tell me about your mother…what did you do together?"

He looked at her in a panic, his breathing involuntarily slowing. "She was so beautiful," he finally whispered.

It seemed to be his favorite thing to say about her. Olivia was relieved to see the color return to his face, and kept a tight grip on his limp hands.

"I loved her hair the most," he continued, his voice steadier this time. "I don't think she ever had a haircut in her entire life...sometimes I would come into her room and just watch her brushing it. It was so long and thick…I always thought she looked like a princess."

He smiled then, which brought Olivia relief. "She was so much fun…nothing like any of the other moms around my neighborhood. I didn't have a whole lot of friends as a kid, but it didn't matter because she would always play with me…no matter how busy she was, she always seemed to have time to play with me."

Olivia smiled at the glowing look that had taken over his face. He seemed to be in a trance, his voice lively as he talked about her.

"I used to love to 'play pretend'," he said, chuckling softly. "She made me a tree fort when I was eight, and we used to spend hours up there after I got home from school. I'd always pretend she was a beautiful princess locked in a tower, and I was a knight coming to save her."

His eyes suddenly lost their sparkle. Her eyes teared up when he looked at her…his expression looked like a lost child.

"I'm so scared to get rid of this stuff, Olivia," he whispered. "I've forgotten what her voice sounded like…this is all I have left of her." Tears came streaming from his eyes. "I'm so scared I'm going to forget her."

She reached out and cradled his cheek in her hand, wiping away his tears with her thumb. "You won't," she whispered. "I promise…you won't ever forget her."

Agonized blue eyes met hers. "How do you know, Liv?" he whispered. "How do you know?"

Olivia stroked his cheek, her eyes taking on a special glow. "Elliot….I have an idea."

Elliot couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his face, no matter what he did. But this time, they were tears of happiness.

Olivia stood next to him, and he reached out and gripped her hand tightly. She returned the grip and smiled as they watched in silence.

The casket was lowered down into the earth softly, the crane making a beeping noise as it backed away from the large pit of dirt.

Captain Cragen stood on Elliot's other side, watching solemnly as the large granite tombstone was put in place by the grave digger. The white marble gleamed brightly in the early afternoon sunshine.

The inscription was made in elegant gold calligraphy:

**Elle Julia Sanford**

**1946-1972**

**Beloved Mother and Friend**

**Rest in Peace**

The trio watched in silence for a few more moments. Elliot suddenly turned, and startled Don when he hugged him tightly.

The older man's eyes were bright as he fiercely returned the embrace. Olivia watched them, smiling. Elliot then turned to her, and swept her into a tight hug as well.

"I don't know how to thank you," he whispered shakily. "Olivia, I love you so much."

She hugged him back as tears fell down her cheeks. "You thank me everyday," she whispered. "Just by being my friend."

They remained in the embrace for a few minutes, until her eyes caught sight of something over Elliot's shoulder. Smiling, she pulled away from him.

He was confused at her smile. "What?" he asked.

"Elliot?"

He turned around in surprise at the woman's voice. Shock made him speechless as he stood still and gaped at her.

She walked slowly towards him. Her snowy hair was in a loose bun, and her wrinkled hands were gripping a cane. The smile on her face, however, held the beauty of a youth.

Elliot's eyes filled with tears, and his voice dropped to a stunned whisper. "Jessie."

He walked shakily towards her and stopped within inches of her, staring at her in awe. A minute later, he threw his arms around her. She hugged him tightly, crying in jubilation.

Olivia smiled at the scene and moved away to give them privacy.

"You did a great thing," Cragen said, watching them as well. "Especially calling her…he's lucky to have you, Olivia."

She shook her head and smiled. "No, Captain," she said. "I'm the lucky one."

After another minute, Cragen glanced at his watch. "I've got to get back," he said. "Don't worry about coming in…I gave everyone the next two days off because of the op."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

His gaze wandered over to where Elliot and the lady were standing, in excited conversation. "Take care of him, Olivia," he said softly. "He needs you more than he'll admit."

She nodded. "I will," she answered.

He nodded a goodbye and left Fairlawn Cemetery. She and Elliot had driven there together, but she didn't want to rush him, so she began walking idly along the cobblestone path put in place between the tombstones.

"She would be so proud of you, Elliot," Jessie gushed, taking his face in her hands.

His face lit up, and she could see the child she had once known looking out through his eyes. "You think so?"

"Yes," she said, stroking his cheeks. She kissed him. "I know so….she's bragging about you to the other angels as we speak."

He hugged her again. "I'm sorry I never came to see you," he said. "I promise I'll keep in touch."

"You do that," she said. "Take care of yourself, Precious."

He smiled; his mother had given him that nickname. "You too."

Olivia walked back over to him as Jessie left.

"You ready?" she asked.

He turned around, and his smile was so radiant that it brought tears to her eyes. "Yeah," he said.

They began walking past his mother's tombstone toward the entrance. All of the sudden, Olivia stopped short.

It took him a minute to realize she was no longer beside her. He turned back. "Liv?"

She was staring at another tombstone. Tears began to roll down her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern. He was surprised when she smiled widely through her tears.

"I had a funny feeling about this place since the day I saw you here," she said. "I could never figure out why."

Laughing in delight, she pointed at the stone. Elliot looked at her in amazement, and they hugged each other tightly as both of them began to cry.

The tombstone that had just been placed over Elliot's mother was on a two-sided plot. The stone directly behind it was dark marble and adorned with yellow daisies.

**Serena Benson**

**1955-2000**

**Rest in Peace**

**THE END**


End file.
